Yesterday, as I walked along the never-ending white beach of Sanibel, I came across a species of shell that exhibited quite peculiar properties. I found these thin, multi-colored shells in the wet sand where the waves crashed every few seconds. The shells, called coquinas, live in this moist habitat. Every time the ocean vacuums the waves back to the sea, the exposed coquina shells struggle and squirm and wiggle, finally protected again by their gritty sand dwelling.
             As I watched the shells more closely, I wondered what scared the tiny beings to this extent. Further pondering, I also speculated about how a meager shell had the energy to wiggle down in the sand thousands of times a day. I then scooped up a pile of the sodden granules to look at these distinctive shells more closely. In my small accumulation I counted at least 20 shells. If one sample of sand contains that many shells then I theorized that the beach must be infested with these busy yet humble beings. Walking further down the beach, I realized why the coquinas acted so afraid of the daylight. The coquinas die in the dry sand. Simply, coquinas understandably wish to hide in their habitat rather then face a natural doom.
             Finally understanding the life of the little shells, I noticed one shell in particular. This coquina looked as if he had an ornate sunset painted across its back. Rather then live beautifully and without fear, the point of his very existence remained his overwhelming fear of death. Observing it further, I found that every time the wave would leave the shore, the top of his shell wiggled and found his place in his comfort zone once again. How tragic for this shell to live in complete fear of the oxygenated world!
             Much like a loner of the human race, the shell remains paralyzed by his insecurities. While the loner fears rejection of his peers, the coquina constantly dreads the interaction with the outside world. Although awkward and do...