Pst… Pst…

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“We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells, bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea.”

Pema Chodron

⇔⇔⇔⇔

My nephew runs up to me right before I head out. My hand is already on the door handle, but I turn around.

“Tia Evie! I have a secret for you!”

“Oh! What is it?!” I say with mock surprise, as if this were the first time, as if this hadn’t been our little ritual for the last year, a ritual of his own creation.

I bend down, so that he can whisper in my ear: “Pst. Pst. Pst. You’re the BEST Tia Evie ever!”

The first time he said it, I was over the moon, and I beamed each time thereafter. I wish he could stay this age forever…

Yet already I can feel time slipping through my fingers. Even now, I can envision a future in which he’s all grown up, and I rediscover my own writing and think:

That’s right. He was three once. He once said I was the best Tia Evie ever.

 


About the picture: A sand castle I recently built with my niece and nephews. It was destroyed minutes after I took that picture. It seemed appropriate for this post.

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