Narrative Essay
Stuffed Crab
My stuffed crab was once fluffy and bright red. It’s now flattened and faded – something that 10+ years of being wedged between the dashboard and windshield of a car will do. It travels with me wherever my car goes and reminds me of one of the first walks on the beach I took with my husband 15 or so years ago when we were first dating. The crab itself isn’t anything spectacular as stuffed animals go, but the story behind him is a pretty good one.
The tide was going out at the bay and the water where we were walking was ankle deep. Miniature waves splashed our legs and the choppiness of the water made it difficult to see our feet. No matter, I thought. This water wasn’t deep enough for any fish too big to hang out in. Even being barefoot, I figured I was safe.
My husband spent his childhood coming to Cape Cod. He had walked in many a low tide and scoured the pools for low tide treasures. He knew the horseshoe crabs, the spider crabs, the snails and razor clams. He knew the feisty bluefish that might be known to swim in groups out a bit further at low tide. And he knew enough to realize that wearing water shoes at low tide wasn’t a bad idea.
I, on the other hand, had spent most of my summers vacationing at Lake Winnipesaukee. Fish? Of course. And mussels. Nothing too feisty, however, at least not in the places I was lucky enough to swim. The soft sand had always felt great under my feet, and I loved to go barefoot in the water. No problem.
“The Cape is a bit different, however,” Jack reminded me. “You have to watch out for some of the creatures who lurk below the surface. They still hang around at low tide, but they’re hiding, trying to avoid us. They probably won’t hurt you... unless that is, if you step on them. You’ll know it then.” Jack went on to explain how crabs, for example, bury themselves in the sand at low tide to avoid getting too heated by the sun. When they do, they position themselves with their claws facing up so that they can defend
My stuffed crab was once fluffy and bright red. It’s now flattened and faded – something that 10+ years of being wedged between the dashboard and windshield of a car will do. It travels with me wherever my car goes and reminds me of one of the first walks on the beach I took with my husband 15 or so years ago when we were first dating. The crab itself isn’t anything spectacular as stuffed animals go, but the story behind him is a pretty good one.
The tide was going out at the bay and the water where we were walking was ankle deep. Miniature waves splashed our legs and the choppiness of the water made it difficult to see our feet. No matter, I thought. This water wasn’t deep enough for any fish too big to hang out in. Even being barefoot, I figured I was safe.
My husband spent his childhood coming to Cape Cod. He had walked in many a low tide and scoured the pools for low tide treasures. He knew the horseshoe crabs, the spider crabs, the snails and razor clams. He knew the feisty bluefish that might be known to swim in groups out a bit further at low tide. And he knew enough to realize that wearing water shoes at low tide wasn’t a bad idea.
I, on the other hand, had spent most of my summers vacationing at Lake Winnipesaukee. Fish? Of course. And mussels. Nothing too feisty, however, at least not in the places I was lucky enough to swim. The soft sand had always felt great under my feet, and I loved to go barefoot in the water. No problem.
“The Cape is a bit different, however,” Jack reminded me. “You have to watch out for some of the creatures who lurk below the surface. They still hang around at low tide, but they’re hiding, trying to avoid us. They probably won’t hurt you... unless that is, if you step on them. You’ll know it then.” Jack went on to explain how crabs, for example, bury themselves in the sand at low tide to avoid getting too heated by the sun. When they do, they position themselves with their claws facing up so that they can defend