Sandcastles really are an odd phenomenon. We put together a flimsy assortment of sand just for it to get washed away soon after. But these vulnerable structures are a vivid memory of my childhood, frittering hours away at the beach, laughing with my best friend as we watched the tide take away our creations.

Melody, hair frizzed and loose, eyes glazed, typical of a daydreamer. My friend, companion, muse. We faced the small inconveniences of childhood together- teachers who smiled once a term, children who took their frustrations with their domineering fathers out on the class. There was nothing that couldn’t be solved with two cookies and cream gelatos and a walk to the beach.

Could this be love? A reggae classic from the late Bob Marley, God bless his soul. In my heart, it was. Why throw a poison dart into such an innocent connection though? One that was holding my life together, a bucket encasing my sandcastle.

The wedding was quaint, rustic, comfortable. Joy coupled with a slow burning pierce to the heart. I spoke, I wish eloquently, instead the jokes masking my swirling emotions. The groom- tall, handsome, confident. A watertight life, a strong shoulder for Melody to lean on.

Once a week became once a month, became once a year. She felt suffocated she said, why have I pushed her away? We both remind each other of innocent times, each meeting punctuated by regret. I’m focused on my work now, my office enclosure. Numbers meaninglessly jump off my screen, patients routinely ticked off her list. There is no room, no space.

Dead of the night, I’m woken by a flash on my phone. A message now, really? It’s Melody, a photo. A dark beach, no caption, no explanation. I depart instantly.

My heart thumps through the silence. A single sandcastle by the shore, barely visible through the light of the moon. I watch, transfixed, a mop of frizzy hair bobbing in the ocean, drifting away forever.