She lives at the lovely beach with white, powdery sand and clear waters that I recently visited. I never would have met her but for the jellyfish sting and then the lifeguard, who gave me strong motivation to return to shore when he gave a sharp tweet on the whistle and made the universal symbol for !shark!--both hands on top of his head in the shape of a triangle. So I went for a long walk away from all the people, WAY down the beach to where there wasn't a single soul (unless crabs, jellyfish, sharks and turtles have souls).
And that's where I met Myrtle. She popped her head up out of the water and said, "Hey, tell Yertle I'll wait for him and that there's no amount of sand or vast forest that can separate us. He's my turtle and I'm his Myrtle."
The trouble is, she's three hours away, by car. What is that in turtle trekking time? I guess I need to find Yertle (he can't be too far from where I last saw him) and take another trip to the ocean.
I've always been a sucker for star-crossed turtle love.
3 comments:
Is it a bit pathetic that I actually got a little emotionally stirred reading this? I hope not. I think it's a testament to your writing, and to the purity of turtle love.
Pretty beach - where is it??
Roboto--pure turtle love is something special.
Jill J, Wouldn't it be awesome if it was Myrtle Beach? It wasn't though. It was Navarre.
Thanks for humoring me on the silly post.
:),
FLI
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