Nantasket Beach 93

We were playing in the sand, my father and I. I was alone at first, sitting indian style by the tidal pools that fill with water and are warmed by the sun throughout the day. After spending time in the pools, searching for crabs under rocks, I got tired from the sun and warm water so I sat down beside the pool.

From a distance, my father watched me, sitting in his beach chair. He watched carefully as I tried building a sand castle. I wasn’t too skilled at this age and my castles would crumble almost as fast as I could mold the sand. After a few minutes of watching me, he got off of his beach chair and walked towards me.

He was self-conscious because he was still pale skinned and it was mid August and he was getting red on his face and torso. He walked slowly, looking around to see if people were watching him. I watched him make his way around the lines of beach chairs and towels until he reached towered above me. He wasn’t a tall man, but he seemed to be a giant at that time. He looked at me with no emotion and said, “Having some trouble?”

“Uh-huh…it won’t stick.”

He smiled slightly and said, “Well let’s get it to stick!”

He sat down next to the war-torn castle and ordered me to grave the pail and fill in with cold ocean water. I did as he said and made my way to the surf. I was filling the bucket with water, but my bathing suit was too big and a wave crashed into me and it fell off. At that age I didn’t think anything of it and laughed and pulled it up. I moved closer to shore and placed the pail on the ground facing the incoming surf.

The water filled the pail and I walked carefully back to my father.

“Okay now, pour some on the sand.”

I poured a little bit.

“More…” He said.

The sand was wet and he quickly scooped it back into the pail then dumped it into a perfect castle corner.

“Go get more water with the pail…this time take two buckets.”

I continued to do this six times, refilling the pails and bringing them back to my father. Before I noticed, the castle was complete. I asked him how he did it and he said the water makes the sand moist and it sticks together better.

I told him that it was cool but I wanted to help and felt left out. He said, “No Bryan, you did help out, you got the water, and you’re the artist in the family so I am leaving the designs to you.”

“Designs?”

“Yea, every real castle must be well designed and decorated. Here, I’ll start you off.”

He took some sand in his hand and dipped it in the water. He then let the wet sand drip slowly from his clenched fist, creating a mold that decorated the castle with precise, glass like features.

“Try it.”

I tried it and immediately I had the “knack” for the castles artistry. It was my favorite part of the sand castle process. While my father made the foundation and the walls, I had found my role, and I was proud.

“You take it from here Bry.”

I watched my father consciously walk back to his beach chair and sit down. I continued with my art.