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Samantha, I held her in my arms and she wept. My beautiful, delicate flower, my Samantha. Hot tears roll down her suntanned skin. I see one tickle the corner of her mouth.

“They’re salty…â€? she says.

“Samantha, have you never cried before?â€? I ask.

“Sure, I’ve cried. When I was little, yeah. But it’s been a while.â€?

Samantha stares up at me with her red and wet eyes.

“When was the last time you cried?â€? she asks me back.

I think about this one for a time. When was the last time that I cried?

“I’m not sure. I guess it’s been a while for me, too.â€? I answer her.

“Oh, come on. You must remember.â€?

“Well, do you remember?â€?

“Yes, I do.â€?

“Tell me, then.â€? I request.

Samantha looks down at our naked feet, digging into the sand.

“Well, I was very young.â€?

“How young?â€?

“Maybe seven, or eight years old.â€?

“Okay.â€?

“And I was here.â€?

“You were right here?â€?

“Well, not right here. But I was here, on the beach.â€? she says, running her hand through the sand, smashing it into her tiny fist.

“I was building a sand castle. It was the biggest and best sand castle I had ever made. It had a moat, and six, or maybe seven towers. It was perfect. I worked on it all day.â€?

“And then?â€?

“When the sun got low the tide came in. I could see the water creeping closer and closer to me and my castle, I could see it. I knew it was coming… But, I almost ignored it. It won’t get to me, I thought. It won’t get this far.â€?

“And did it?â€?

“It did. It really was happening slowly but it came up on me fast, like falling asleep. I remember I started building a wall around my castle, rapidly, to try and protect it.â€?

“Did it work?â€?

“Only at first. But I could only scoop the sand so fast, and before I knew it, water was rushing over my wall and flooding my moat and melting my castle. That’s when I cried.â€?

It was on our 61st and final day that I realized she was my castle and I her moat. Time crept up onto us slowly and surely, but before we could build up our walls, the ocean had washed her away, and I was another drop in her bucket. Separated by forces beyond our control, my memory of her crumbling like the sand of eight year old Samantha’s castle.

I wonder where she’s floating now.