Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Sandcastles are magical. The elicit a time when princesses and kings, noblemen and knights, chivalry and splendor ruled the world. They are the stuff of fairy tales and we never give up on believing that fairy tales can come true.
Sandcastles are mystical. Here one day, gone the next. Fortresses built of silica, probably the second most available element on earth next to water; yet, subject to the whim of the sea.
Sandcastles are fragile. Not just the sea but beach wanderers can be their foe.
This is what was left of the sandcastle the next morning. I knew it was not going to last forever. Sandcastles never do. But there was something in the manner of its destruction that got to me. Not even childrens' footprints but those of adults. I listened to the waves washing up on shore and gradually recovered from my despair. It is the nature of things.
I had forgotten that like friends, sandcastles are also resilient. They re-surface unannounced. They make your day. They brighten your sky. They offer you a port in your storm.
So, imagine my surprise this morning when I passed that sorry trodden mound to find not one but two sandcastles!