Sand In Her Eyes

Photo by Ann on Unsplash

[Note:  This short story was prompted by Willow at The Faithful Wanderer at https://faithfulwanderer8.wordpress.com//  The prompt was to write a short story based on a theme of “Fun In The Sun” from the viewpoint of an inanimate object.]

Here I am once again burning alive in the heat of the summer sun. All day long I am taken for granted- stepped on countless times by multitudes of noisy people, poked and prodded, beaten and packed down, used to construct castles I have no say in, didn’t ask for, and have no right to own. Even worse, I am used to bury people when the last thing I want is a reputation as an undertaker. Don’t even get me started on the mess that is left for me when the day is done- the plastic bottles, the forgotten toys, the food containers, lost shoes, discarded books, and other things too bad to mention. Never have I been treated with manners or given thanks. It’s as if I have no worth but to be used and then forgotten about. At night, I often wonder if I was made for a reason beyond being just an afterthought to a holiday or path for an afternoon escape from everyday life. Can’t anyone appreciate me for just me?

Then one day changed everything and I have never been the same. It started like any other day- busy, hot, crowded with innumerable people. But that one day, and one little girl, changed my whole perspective and brought me to a new realization about myself. She appeared to be about six years old and had dusty blonde curly hair with blue eyes that mirrored the waves of the ocean. She had come with her grandparents in the early morning. She ran around as if she had found a paradise that no words could describe. Her feet scuttled from one part of me to another with her grandparents struggling to keep up, calling for her to slow down. But innocuously she paid no heed, took off her shoes, and went on shouting and jumping with excitement and joy she couldn’t contain. Interestingly, her eyes were not on the waves or nearby rocks or even the seagulls. Her bulging eyes only focused on the ground as if she were seeing me for the first time, surprised I even existed. She kept picking me up and slowly running me through her fingers, throwing me in the air and laughing, curling her toes under me and smiling as if she knew no other emotion. Both humbled and shocked, I never felt so noticed or wanted before.

Finally, her grandparents caught up with her and with much effort coaxed her to sit down for a moment. They offered her a towel to sit on but she declined, saying she wanted to be as close to me as possible. Several minutes went by and she ignored her grandparents’ repeated pleas to view the grandeur of the ocean. With much exasperation, and confusion her grandfather put her on his lap and said, “Sandy, why don’t you look at the ocean and all of its beauty? People drive hours and spend a lot of money to be here and just see the ocean sights. Don’t you like the ocean, dear?”

A few moments went by before Sandy replied quietly and innocently without taking her eyes off of me: “Oh Grandpa, the ocean is very pretty and nice but everyone looks at that. But no one pays any attention to the grains of sand. Each one is so special and lovely but no one notices them.” Her grandfather gave her a quizzical look and asked her what she meant.

“Don’t you see? Without the sand and all it provides, we would not enjoy the ocean for we wouldn’t be able to get near it. The sand gives us a place to not be afraid of the waves and we never even think about it. We should be just as grateful for the sand as the ocean.” Her grandfather smiled at Sandy in awe of her wisdom, hugged her closely, and thought for the first time how appropriately she had been named.

Now, thanks to this one little girl, I no longer lament my purpose. I know the reason I was made and am content. Sandy was the first person to truly appreciate me and love me for me; as far as I am concerned, I don’t even care if she is the last.