Building sandcastles on the sea shore
The seabirds weave and duck in the sky over Spanish Point on a brisk March Saturday. Surfers dancing across the top of the white horses, crashing winter waves rushing towards the shore before gently embracing the wet sands.
Wrapped in hats and scarves with plastic blue wellies, three screaming children run across the beach, shrieks of laughter despite the coldness of the day. Ensconced in her deck chair, a lagging jacket clad mother keeps RayBan eyes on the exuberant shenanigans.
Small rivers of water impede the beach as I thread barefoot through the cold water, my footprints disappearing in the moving sands.
One young boy busily constructs glowing towers of sand, echoing shadows of El Escorial or the Alhambra. Building walls to keep out the tides.
Yet his innocent dedication a call to wonder despite the odds.
Forever dancing on the seashore building life's dreams.