Sandcastle

I remember, as kids, no weekend went by without the trip to the beach. Two overzealous kids, with just a year to separate them, were obviously too much for a fulltime housewife - our mom. Our wise dad made sure we went back home tired and silent.

Our play activities usually involved fighting the sharks and giant squids. And had an occasional pirate to capture. Once we have enough of the water, we discarded our fins and evolved to the land.

A favourite land activity was to see who build a better sandcastle. I always took pride in my creations. Bridges, high walls, detailed structures were easier to make with each attempt.

On one particular trip, I wanted to challenge myself by making a real big sandcastle. Realising that I need ready access to more wet mud, I chose a particular area closer to the water. I had higher walls. Bigger bridges. Larger towers. I was very happy.

And just as I was giving it final touches, a rouge wave made mockery of my skills.

I stood shocked not knowing what to do. I wanted to blame the wave. I wanted to blame something. My little heart refused to understand the cruelty of it all.

I turned away then and headed home. The memory of that castle forever in my mind.

We all build sandcastles with the best of our intention. Sometimes they just don’t take shape.

I leave you with the thought that I didn’t stop making sandcastles. I was back at the beach, the next weekend.