I used to live near a beach for some time.
There was a boy, around the age of 11 I would say,
who I would observe making a sand castle or something with the sand,
from wherever I set up camp on the sand.
At first, he always looked so engrossed with playing with the sand.
Focused deeply to get smooth consistency of the castles he build.
At times, a look of relief as people walked past him without damage.
Other times, he would startle as if sitting in fear would stop other running children
from toppling over his creation of the day.
Over time, I would notice that he would look more towards the ocean.
Not for a quick glance to check how close the tide is,
or whether if the unruly kids would trample back, threatening his creations.
At times, the ocean would crash her waves hard enough on the shoreline
that the boy would jump a little.
Of course, I thought, he doesn't want the waves to destroy his castle.
One day, I was splashing around the water,
and like the time before, the waves tested his comfort, coming so close to his creation.
But it wasn't fear that I saw in his eyes,
like the unruly kids or gulls that would knowingly or unknowingly run past his creations.
I thought, did he fear things he could not control?
Did he wish he could stand up to the waves or tell the unruly kids to be more careful?
No, he could have chosen to build elsewhere.
It wasn't fear.
Over time, it changed, a softer yet uncertain look...
his castle was closest to the water it's ever been,
and it was almost as if he didn't mind the ocean enveloping his castle, and himself.
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