Sandcastles

Our youngest daughter wants to be a princess when she grows up.

Truly.

If you ask her what she wants to be, she’ll lean in close, look you right in the eye and with a look of enchantment, she’ll say, quite simply, “a princess.”

We know we could explain to her that real princesses are born into that role . . . that neither of her parents descends from royal bloodlines. But why spoil her dream?

I grew up in a coastal town . . . a hop, skip and a jump away from the neighboring island which has grown into a resort community. Access to the island was a high-rise bridge on the west end and a draw-bridge on the east. 21 miles separated the two bridges. The island road was narrow and bumpy and white oaks, shaped by years of ocean breezes, grew on either side. In some places, they almost touched overhead. As a little girl, about the age of our Princess, I used to love riding on the island. There was a small town on each end and an eclectic old fishing village in the middle and I would imagine the “tunnels” in between to be secret passages.

Time has changed the island. The road is a lot wider now. There aren’t so many white oaks. The draw-bridge on the east end of the island gave way years ago to another high-rise. Fishing piers are being replaced by fishing boats too large to haul home, so the owners store them in dry-stack marinas. The occasional tacky souvenir shop of then has turned into scads of boutiques. Where sand dunes once protected the island from wind and waves, there are now walls of hotels and condos. The small beach cottages which used to be the perfect beach get-away are now hidden among the masses of three- and four-story, multi-million dollar sandcastles . . . with pools.

The change is not all-together good or bad . . . just different.

We spent this past week visiting my Mom. During the week, we made several trips up and down the island, and each time, I noticed something new.

My favorite discovery was an old trailer park.

Now, I know, there’s no way to make a trailer park as enticing as those enormous, tropical-colored mansions across the street – the ones whose shadows mingle among the trailers in the afternoon sun. But what I noticed is that some of the trailers have been given a face-lift with fresh paint . . . the colors of the islands. It’s as if the shadows of the big giants have reached across and shared some of their glory with the singlewides.

Would I spend a week or two enjoying life at the beach in one of those big homes . . . choosing whether to sun in the sand or by the pool? You bet! Deep down, I think there’s a small part of all of us that craves a life of luxury . . . even if it’s only for a little while.

But my hope is that we can teach our children a sense of balance . . . that in the midst of having dreams and keeping them alive, they can also find contentment and peace within their present lives.

Understanding that their sandcastle may be big or it may be small, but they can still choose to paint it a beautiful color . . . and that their pool may simply be a tidal pool on the shore, but it can still be enjoyed.

Photo: Chateauneuf-en-Auxois Castle, Burgundy Region, France.