My beautiful grandmother. She had a room dedicated to beautiful ocean treasures and memories. A huge turtle shell hung from the wall. Photographs filled shelves, a huge one of my sister and cousin, so identical they were often mistaken for twins. I would walk through, looking at all the photographs and picking up the huge shells. Pressing them to my ear and listening to the sound of the waves crashing inside. My cousin told me it was the sound of home, no doubt a story passed from generations before us. Not sure the first time I saw a fish trap… it was probably in that room amongst all of the beautiful ocean treasures…