On the beach, cool breezes blow across the water, but the sun’s rays feel warm upon my face. The ocean laps gently at the shore. I see one golden-haired lad with shovel and pail filling the moat around his carefully constructed sandcastle. I remember another golden-haired boy of years long past, wearing his bright red swimsuit, busy at his task and oblivious to all around him. Carefully, patiently, he fills and empties his pail again and again, molding and shaping the sand until he has it just right, until his perfect castle is completed. He runs to me, eyes aglow with pride, his dimpled smile stretched from ear to ear.
He dances around me. “Mommy, come see! It’s finished! It’s perfect!” We stand and admire it together. One bucket of sand turned upside down, a tiny trench encircling it. To us, it is a perfect castle. But then it happens. A wave, much bigger than the rest, washes away his labor of love. His green eyes fill, his lip quivers momentarily and then he squares his shoulders and announces, “Oh well, I’ll begin again tomorrow.”
And now recalling that other sunny summer day, my own eyes brimming with tears, my own lip quivers until I remember that I, too, can square my shoulders and “begin again tomorrow.”
TCF, Baltimore, MD
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