Part of me wants to wail, as I want to wail every year on Dec. 26, that my favorite part of the year is over, that time from early October until Dec. 25, and I feel like I hardly got to enjoy it and if we could just rewind, I promise that I will savor every single moment.
My inner critic scolds that I didn't savor it the first time, and why would this time be different?
My inner contemplative reminds me that there will be unexpected joys in January and February--for overlooked/unappreciated months, those months bring their own rewards, even if there aren't special foods or twinkly lights.
And yes, I have been researching, looking for some sort of Valentine's twinkly decoration.
Let me remember the lesson the beach offered me today:
From a distance, we noticed a sandcastle that we couldn't see until the light shifted on the beach. We marveled at its elaborate nature. We couldn't help but notice the tide that might soon sweep it away.
In the end, it wasn't the tide. Children out for their morning walk stomped it away.
Symbolism abounds.
Coda: Symbolism abounds indeed. From the balcony of our resort, it only looked like children were destroying the sand castle. In fact, they were adding improvements.
In a few hours, they had added a mermaid, as well as embellishments to the existing structure.
The structure is ringed by all sorts of sand animals, from a dog with a bone
to a crocodile
to a turtle
Well done, sand artists! It's truly turned into a community project--I watched all sorts of people join in the fun.
So the next time I feel despair--about missing my favorite time of year, about the larger political landscape, about the future of the arts--let me remember the lessons of the sandcastle.
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