Some say sandcastles are child’s play and if that’s the case, call me a kid. For my last spring break before the wide-open world, I ventured to the warm sandy beaches of Fort Myers with one of my closest friends, and we had one mission.
We walked along the shoreline, picking up shells as we strolled. Half a waterlogged coconut brushed my foot– the perfect container to store these shells. We tracked back with our collection and began construction.
Our oceanside palace was fit for a fairy, decorated with seashell windows and an oyster shell door. The seaweed that annoyingly stuck to our feet everytime we returned to the waves for water became ivy vines covering the grey sand walls. Across the surrounding moat, my friend built what she referred to as the “art shack” equipped with a seaweed roof. I placed the last of the shells on the castle’s tower, finishing the shell rooftop. The empty coconut seemed like such a waste so the obvious choice was to convert the topical nut into a pool. My friend lined twigs up to the coconut so any tiny creature would have a clear path to the castle’s feature.
We sat back in our chairs, admiring our paradise bungalow when something caught my attention. I turned my head to find another beach dweller, colonizing his patch of sand. A 4-foot-long structure stood 20 feet from our humble abode, decked out with a wave catching gate to the ocean, ridges from store bought sand-building equipment, and a small white flag establishing this castle supremacy.
We looked back at our much smaller sand pile, blending in with the natural dips in sand, created entirely from four hands. I felt kind of silly building her since I’m an adult now, but when I looked down the beach, the only people working on these sand structures were well past the appropriate age for sandcastles. The man responsible for the intimidating structure was balding, and all I could do was laugh, reassured in the thought that I’m not sure if we ever grow up.
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