There were two little boys on the beach. Maybe six and seven. One was collecting seashells. The other collected sand.
Lots of kids collect shells and sand. But these kids were different. The boys were dragging five-gallon buckets behind them. Within these buckets were hundreds of shells, and gallons of sand. The buckets were too heavy for the boys to lift. So they dragged them.
An old man saw the kids. He watched the boys inspect seashells, then toss them into the bucket. He watched them struggle to muscle the buckets through the wet, compacted shore, cutting troughs into the sand.
Foolish boys, the old man thought.
“Excuse me,” the old man said. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
The boys were covered in perspiration. Out of breath from the effort.
“We’re collecting sand and shells,” the elder kid said.
The old man smiled. The old man was, after all, a former boy himself. He knew about boyhood eagerness. He knew, intimately, how all kids overdo things. One of the great lessons of adulthood, one could argue, is learning how to pace oneself.
The foolhardiness of children is astounding, that’s what the old man was thinking. Youth is wasted on the young. When you’re a child, you try to eat the whole birthday cake. When you’re an old man, you learn not to eat sugar past 4:30 p.m.
“Don’t be silly, boys,” the old man said, using this opportunity to teach the children an important life lesson. “You have too many shells for two little boys. And there’s no good reason to collect all that sand.”
The boys looked at their buckets. Shells brimmed over the top.
“Too many shells?” one boy said.
The old man knelt to the boys’ eye level. He affected his most wizened voice, preparing to impart his awesome wisdom to the reckless lads.
“Think about it,” the old man said. “What are YOU going to do with so many shells? What will you do with hundreds of shells once you’ve collected them? Have you thought about what you’ll do with all that sand?”
“I know what I’ll do,” the littlest boy said. “I’ll give it to my mom.”
“Don’t be crazy, your mother doesn’t want all that sand.”
The other boy said, “But she’s never seen the beach before!”
The old man looked around. “Isn’t your mom here at the beach with you?”
The boys shook their heads. “No,” the kid said, “Mama can’t get out of her hospital bed, she’s got too many tubes and wires in her body. She can’t even walk no more.”
The old man said nothing.
“Mama’s been in the hospital for a year. The doctor says she don’t have much time left, and the preacher is with her now.”
The old man did not speak.
The oldest boy went on, “Mama always wanted to see the beach, so me and my brother are gonna bring the whole beach to her.”
Little brother added, “We’re going to decorate her bedroom with sand and pretty shells so when she meets Jesus tomorrow, she can meet him on the beach.”
Never miss an opportunity to shut your mouth.
4 comments
stephenpe - August 20, 2024 2:12 pm
I spent a lot of time on Fla beaches. Last week with my two grandchildren two daughters and two sons. And first wife. The beach makes you feel small looking at the ocean or gulf. I used to walk long distances on the beach. I remember the first time I did near Venice Fla. Great story. Reminds me of the Christmas song “Momma’s Shoes”
Deena k Charles - August 20, 2024 3:25 pm
Yesterday I was laughing, today you’re making me cry, beautiful story, but so sad!
pattymack43 - August 20, 2024 6:08 pm
❤️❤️❤️
Connie Shepherd - August 21, 2024 2:55 am
🫶