He was building a sandcastle just beyond the water line. Swimming trunks weighed down by sand and salt water. His dark skin shone in the sunlight, and he laughed playfully as his older brother stomped on the bucket to release the sandy turret.
Occasionally he would run to the water's edge and stick his toes in. The tide would wash over his ankles, just enough to cool him off, and he would run back to his sandcastle. Back and forth he would run, never daring to go deeper. The loud, green waters scared him every time they pulled at his feet... something beckoned him. But fear kept him preoccupied on the shore.
And then I saw him coming. He had been watching for a while under the shade of the umbrella, and he finally came to join the young boy at the water's edge. He reached out his bigger hand and the little boy slipped his smaller one in, squeezing tightly. Together they walked into the ocean, taking a step farther than the little boy had ever been on his own.
The waves were up to his waist now and I watched him pull on his father's forearm, drawing him closer, seeking protection.
Suddenly the little boy let go and ran back to the shore. He stood, shaking his head, covered in sand and dripping wet. His father turned around and came to stand beside him, hand on his shoulder.
It only took a moment before, hand in hand again, they returned to the water's edge. And in one swift motion the father lifted his son up into his arms. He walked slowly into the water, going deeper than they'd ever gone before. The waves swirled around his waist, washing his son's knees.
And watched as waves crashed over their heads and the son came up sputtering, clinging to his father's neck, laughing and laughing...
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