“Can I show you something your father left here without knowing?”
I stared at him.
Noah thought so too.
“My father?”
Captain Reyes opened the box again.
This time, he lifted the velvet lining.
Hidden underneath was a laminated photograph, its edges faded from years of exposure to sunlight and dust from a drawer.
He passed it to me first.
The man in the photo was younger, barefoot and shirtless, with wet sand covering his arms up to his elbows.
Simone.
My Simon.
He was standing next to a huge sandcastle I'd never seen before, and he was laughing so hard his eyes were almost closed.
I looked at the photograph much longer than I had intended.
Noah clung to my arm.
Captain Reyes nodded.
"Before you were born, your father would come here early. Sometimes before dawn. He built castles right there."
He pointed to the waterline.
“Big. Weird. One had a whale-shaped wall. The guards would come to lend a hand when the beach was quiet.”
I had never heard that story.
Simon built office buildings. Multi-story parking garages. Bridges. He believed in measurements, regulations, and foundations.
Objects designed to last.
Captain Reyes glanced toward the ruined strip of sand at the water's edge.
“Every afternoon, the tide would carry them away.”
Noah ran a finger along the edge of the photograph.
“Was he crazy?”
The lifeguard gave a small smile.
That answer seemed to disturb Noah.
"Why not?"
Captain Reyes gave me a brief glance before returning his attention to my son.
“Your father always said, ‘If my son only learned to build things that last, he’d miss out on half the good things in life.’”
Little by little, the sounds of the beach began to make themselves heard again around us.
The waves.
The children.
A seagull screeching near someone's bag of chips.
I looked towards the razed castle.
Then the memories came flooding back.
The pumpkins Simon carved spoiled within a few days.
The blanket forts he built and took down before going to sleep.
The kites that broke.
The flowers he planted even though he knew winter would kill them.
I had assumed that they were simply joyful things.
Maybe those had been lessons too.
Noah stared at the flag still clutched in his fingers.
“Wasn't Dad sad when the ocean took the castles away?”
Captain Reyes shook his head.
“He always said the ocean was just taking the time to admire them.”
For a moment Noah was silent.
Then, for the first time that afternoon, he found himself facing the water without retreating.
“Can I keep the photo?”
“It's yours, buddy.”
Noah held the photograph gently, then handed it back to me so he could stand up.
He headed back out into the wet sand.
Not to rebuild the entire kingdom.
Not everything.
He crouched down where the waves had softened the ground and pressed one handful of sand on top of the other.
A tower.
Small.
Irregular.
Just higher than his shin.
People watched, but kept their distance.
Noah pushed the tiny American flag to its top.
The next wave hit the beach.
It wrapped around the tower.
The sand gave way.
The flag hung to one side.
For a terrible moment, I feared she would start crying again.
Instead, Noah laughed.
He rushed forward, tore the flag from the foam and raised it above his head.
Captain Reyes was standing next to me.
I held the photograph carefully in both hands.
“Thank you,” I said.
His eyes remained fixed on Noah.
“Your husband built some beautiful castles.”
I watched my son, who was already getting wet sand on his feet.
“He built something better.”
When we returned to the beach the next morning, Noah didn't ask Simon if he could see his castle.
He just wanted to know if we had brought the blue shovel.
By noon, five more children had gathered beside him near the shoreline.
Together they built walls, tunnels, crooked towers, and a bakery, because Noah still believed that every kingdom needed bread.
A little girl watched the ocean get closer and closer.
“The tide will take it down,” he said.
Noah added another handful of sand.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny red paper flag he and his father had made.
Then he smiled. “We’ll just build another one.”
He placed the paper flag on the highest tower and ran towards the waves with the other children.
Behind him, the little red flag stood alone in the sea breeze.
Waiting for the tide.
