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When I was younger I lived near the 

shore, in a small house with just my 

parents. Someone, a family member or 

a friend, would always hold a seashell 

to my ear. No matter how often it 

happened, I recall every time.   Whoever 

was holding the shell against my tiny 

ear would ask if I could hear the ocean 

bubbling inside the seashell.

I never could.

They would describe what they heard 

with wide eyes and excitement, 

believing that I too heard what they did.

I never could.

They would explain that they could hear 

the waves crashing onto the shore and 

beating against the rocks.   I knew that 

they expected me to hear what they 

did, but I never could.   Still, I would nod 

and smile, pretending that I could hear 

the ocean and hear the waves, not 

wanting to disappoint them.

But I was disappointed.   I didn't hear anything.

As I grew older, I forgot about not 

being able to hear the ocean in a 

seashell.   I forgot about being 

embarrassed.   I forgot about being 

confused.   But, one day, someone 

asked me once again to listen to a 

seashell that they had found while 

wandering the nearby beach.

As I leaned my ear towards the shell, I 

began to hear something.

It wasn't the sound of waves riding 

gracefully onto the shore or colliding 

with one another, but the sound of 

laughter.  

I did not understand!

The mystery of the seashell had me 

searching my whole life for the answer.  

After leaving my family in our tiny 

house by the sea, I traveled to other 

beaches all over the world, hoping to 

find the reason why I had heard 

nothing.

Nothing except laughter.

I began to grow older, and the plans for 

my life became simple.   I got married to 

a lovely man and had many lovely 

children, and we all lived far, far away 

from my home by the ocean.

When my children had all grown up and 

had begun lives of their own, their 

father passed away.  

I then bought another small, cozy home 

for just myself, once again by the sea, 

so that I could finish what I had not yet 

discovered about the mysterious 

seashells.   Each summer my children 

would return to visit, and soon they 

were bringing their own children. 

One day, in the late summer, my 

youngest granddaughter, Eve, came to 

visit.   We wandered for hours on the 

rocks and along the shore while we 

examined all the little crabs that crossed 

our path.   When we let the waves crash 

onto our feet and our legs, as we stood 

still by the water's edge, Eve began to 

giggle.   Soon, her giggles became loud, 

contagious laughter as she watched the 

water gather around her little feet.

Suddenly, I understood the meaning of 

the seashells.   It was Eve I had first 

heard inside of the laughing seashell.

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