“Why not?”
Captain Reyes looked briefly at me before returning his attention to my son.
“Your dad used to say, ‘If my kid only learns how to build things that last, he’ll miss half the beautiful things in life.’”
Gradually, the sounds of the beach rose around us again.
The waves.
The children.
A gull squawking near someone’s bag of chips.
I looked toward the flattened castle.
Then memories came back.
The pumpkins Simon carved even though they spoiled within days.
The blanket forts he assembled and tore down before bedtime.
The kites that snapped.
The flowers he planted while knowing winter would kill them.
I had assumed they were simply joyful things.
Perhaps they had also been lessons.
Noah stared at the flag still trapped between his fingers.
“Dad wasn’t sad when the ocean took the castles?”
Captain Reyes shook his head.
“He used to say the ocean was just taking its turn to admire them.”