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She raced to finish the sand castle before the high tide erased all of her hard work. I watched her from the hut, the scene framed between the bamboo railing and dry palmetto leaves. The tourists had left the beach as dusk arrived, leaving only a group of small children and my young architect. I wondered if she could complete her work before the tide or darkness stopped her. She rushed to construct the last tower. I silently urged her on as she hurriedly packed wet sand in her orange pail.

Pushed by the approaching tide, the waves rushed past the moat and began to undermine the medieval sand bastion. As she prepared to form the last tower, one of the boys ran up from the water and kicked the north wall of the edifice. The architect slapped him across the chest with such force that he swiftly returned to the water, stunned by the unexpected blow.

When the waves grew stronger, she quickly built a curved wall in front of the castle, giving her the time she needed to finish. She plopped the molded sand on the flat corner of the sculpture and stood back to admire her work. She looked around for a witness to her achievement, when our eyes locked, and we smiled in recognition. Then she bolted down the beach to join the other children as the waves broke over the moat and rushed up the face of her triumph.

Copyright 2007 J. J. White
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