sandcastles

The woman stood at the window. The water ran quietly down into the sink of dirty dishes before her. She wore a slight smile and stared fixedly at the back of the small head in front of her. A young boy sat Indian-style just on the edge of the concrete patio in the back yard. His butt rested on the concrete, his feet in the grass. He wore jeans and a striped T-shirt. A small yellow Labrador sat next to him. It was cloudy and the grass glistened with a recent rain. The sun was emerging through the storm clouds and the small boy sat directly in it’s first weak attempts of light in a gloomy day. His hair glittered with the casting rays. He made no move, nor did the dog at his side. The two just sat and watched the scene before them.

In the small wood framed sandbox the sand danced and swayed in a rhythmical motion that denied any natural cause. The boy sat entranced, an audience to his own show. The woman tried to stir up an emotion and was denied. She moved her stare past the boy and concentrated on the sand. With a blink the dancing column was gone.

Both boy and dog looked back at her. The boy wore a great smile and giggled. This was a common game. He had the bluest eyes that shone brightly in the sun's rays. His auburn hair somehow matched his slightly ruddy complexion. He was quite simply a beautiful child. The aunt smiled looking at him and reached forward to turn off the water so she could go join the pair outside. She glanced down for a moment as she reached for the faucet and when she looked up again, the boy had turned back to the box, tuning her out once more. His small body was rigid with a concentration that spoke against any more pranks. The sand before him rose up once again. In the blink of an eye he had created a castle. In the next moment it was made of stone.

The aunt turned the water back on and continued to wash the pile of dishes in the sink.