It seemed like just a moment ago, our boys were little,
spending their days burying my husband in the sand.
We blinked and they grew up into fine young men.
Building sandcastles was always something my husband shared with them, and admittedly the first time we went to our local beach without them, we were sad. But Larry took his sand toys anyway, determined to somehow sculpt his way out of Empty Nest syndrome.
Of course, children materialized out of nowhere once he started to pack the foundation, eager to assist.
Note: Yes, I went beach chair to beach chair, calming concerned parents who wondered why a mature, white-haired man was captivating their children with his sandcastle making talents. “We’re in the throes of Empty Nest,” I explained. “And desperately missing our boys.” With smiles all around, they went back to their books and sunbathing.
At some point, a toddler pulled a piece of seaweed out of the water and placed it in the doorway of the castle. “That looks like a dragon’s tail,” Larry said to him. “Our castle is so cool, a dragon moved in.”
And the heavens opened, and the angels sang. The concept for WHEN A DRAGON MOVES IN was conceived that day.
Seven years later, we still go to that beach. Sometimes we’re lucky and our sons can join us.
Other times, we’re fortunate to share other beaches with them.
And when neither is available, my hubby still brings his sand toys, and never lacks for help and inspiration.
Because summer lovin’ may happen fast, but if you keep your eyes, your mind and your heart open, it can easily stretch into an endless summer.