Arguing With the Tide
· by Roy Edlund
This little boy can’t be more than six, and he’s been building a sandcastle all afternoon. It’s a real engineering marvel, with a moat, a tower, and a gull feather stuck in the top for a flag.
An older guy, probably his grandfather, sits under a canopy tent a few yards back in a folding chair, keeping a close eye on the incoming tide, the way grandpas do.
A small first wave reaches the moat and fills it to the top. As the water recedes, one of the walls starts to collapse. The boy fixes it. A second wave comes in a little faster, and the grandfather gets up from his chair as the castle starts to crumble.
He grabs the boy just before the next wave takes out what’s left. The little boy is crying. “It’s not fair!” he yells at the ocean. “Give it back!”
After a while the yelling runs out. The boy looks at the smooth wet sand where his castle used to be, then back up the beach. He grabs his bucket, walks about ten steps higher, and starts digging.
His grandfather nods, mostly to himself, settles back into his chair, and goes back to watching the water.
Acceptance isn’t approval. It’s refusing to argue with what already happened. Beach Bum Code #77
Prints of the photos in this post are available in the Beach Bum Gallery on paper, canvas and metal.