The sandcastle and the tide

All afternoon, Lily built the most beautiful sandcastle on the whole beach. It had four towers, a bridge made from an ice lolly stick, shell windows and a flag made from a seagull feather. Grandpa helped her dig the moat. "That's a castle fit for a queen," he said, brushing the sand off his knees.

But around six o'clock, the tide started coming in. A first wave licked the edge of the moat. Then a second, a little higher. Lily jumped to her feet. "No! Not my castle!" She grabbed her spade and built a sand wall in front of the towers, fast, faster and faster. The next wave rolled right over it as if it wasn't there.

Lily felt tears coming. She was cross with the sea, and sad, so sad her tummy hurt. "It's not fair," she sobbed. "We worked on it all afternoon." Grandpa sat down next to her on the towel. He didn't tell her to stop crying. He just lifted her onto his lap.

"You know," he said after a while, "the sea doesn't mean to. It comes in and goes out twice a day, and it always has. It isn't breaking your castle. It's coming to have a really close look." Lily sniffed. "And what does it do with it?" Grandpa smiled. "It takes every grain of sand along with it. Tomorrow, a bit of your castle will be on another beach, and maybe another child will build a tower with it."

Lily watched the waves. The first tower slumped gently, then the second. The feather flag floated on the water for a moment, then headed out to sea like a tiny boat. Lily waved goodbye to it. Before the last tower disappeared, she picked out the shell from one of the windows, a white one striped with pink, and held it tight in her fist.

That night, in the little house by the beach, Lily put the shell on her bedside table. Through the open window, she could hear the sea coming and going, coming and going, never in a hurry. She wondered which beach her castle would wash up on tomorrow. Then the sound of the waves drifted further and further away, and Lily fell asleep with a little sand still stuck between her toes.