The Sandcastle
By Rachel Wiley
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The gentle roar of the sea matches the cry of the thoughts flying through my mind. The waves rush over my feet, then return to the sea, leaving the sand smooth and glossy, untouched by any mark or blemish. As another wave breaks over my ankles, the waves of fear break over my heart and splash down my face in tear drops. I step carefully around the remains of what must have been a grand sandcastle, built with joy and care, only to be demolished by the merciless waves.
As I stop and stare, the sandcastle recedes from sight and a vision of my life takes its place. My life is like shifting sand, changed with every wave. I build it up when the waves are still far out at sea, carefully sculpting the walls around my heart. I find a seashell, a friendship, beneath the sand, where I never would have thought to look. Smiling, I embed it in a tower of my heart. It changes the look of my life, but only serves to make it more beautiful, and so I rejoice. As I put the finishing touches on it, I look out to sea, and see the tide rolling in. I stand transfixed by the frothy crests, beautiful and intriguing. Then the implications hit me as the water rises higher and higher on the sand and I see the water headed straight for my life, my castle made of sand. I cry out as the first wave breaks over the battlements, carrying away the first few fragments of my security. Tears burn behind me eyes as the walls flatten. I stand watching, tears pouring down my face as even my shell is swept away.
My reverie is broken by the cry of a lone seagull. I look again at the sand castle and realize that while I stood there, the tide had come in. The whole face of the beach had changed. Heaving a sigh, I brush away the tears and continue on my path down the beach, into the unknown.
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