Treasures in the Sand
When my daughter was five or six I packed the car and drove to the lake. For some quality time. But the traffic was bad and it was sweltering hot. I had to lug bottles of water, a bag of fishy-smelling beach toys, a lunch cooler, and a lawn chair across the parking lot and down the stairs to the beach. I stopped to take a breath and take in the scenery. Broken flips flops, water engorged diapers, plastic bags, and pieces of glass littered the shore from the weekend. My daughter took off barefoot to scare a gaggle of seagulls. I screeched for her to be careful, I imagined her cutting her foot and getting an infection, but only managed to scatter the seagulls before she got to them. I cleared a space for the blanket and set up my lawn chair, trying to avoid a pile of smashed potato chips left by the last occupants. Almost immediately we were surrounded by a horde of children wanting to borrow our beach toys. I could not keep track of them and my daughter, who had wandered ankle-deep in...