Building a sandcastle

I remember when I was a kid, I liked to build sandcastles at the beach, it was like a habit. It always was a big castle, but in my case it wasn’t a princess’s castle, no big tower in the middle where the princess was locked behind a big heavy door. there were no evil step-mothers and no princes living in the castle either. I think it was a castle of hope and dreams. Hopes about a full life and dreams about a happy life.

My castle always had either three or four towers, flags on top of every tower, thick walls, a castle’s yard in the middle with trees made from leaves and people were made from sticks, deep moat was surrounding the castle so that nothing evil could get in to the castle, sometimes there wa s drawbridge that let the good inside the castle.

So a few days ago I was sitting at the beach looking at a sunset and I saw a small bucket and shovel that someone had forgotten to the beach and I could stop myself of building a sandcastle.  While building the sandcastle I felt like that six year-old red-head kid again. Concentrating fully to the building, making sure thate every edge of the castle was just the way that it should be. Filling the bucket again and a again, tapping the bucket so that the towers of the castle would be perfect. No castle was perfect without tower flags and this time branches would do the job. Then i had to find the right sized stones to fit to put on the edges of the walls and the towers, so i needed to go and look for them. I filled my pockets with the stones and places each stone carefully to the castle. This time ther were no trees and no people outside the castle. I like to think that the castle was a sign of new life. New life in me.

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