Footprints in the Sand
I walk along the smooth wet sand, the shells digging into my soft feet. My toes dig little grooves as the crystal waves wash over them. My mind wanders to the footprints surrounding me, large and small, from deep caverns in the sand to shallow scrapes on the surface.
To my left is the deep imprint of a boot from the girl on the boardwalk. Her cherry red boots reflect the bright sunlight and her golden hair flows in the breeze. Next to her footprints are the light grooves of her dark-haired friend, with battered white converse shoes and a big smile.
Crossing in front of me are the cookies-and-cream footsteps of the kid who is fighting hopelessly to keep a cold icecream from dripping down his hand. It melts into the hot asphalt as his sister laughs and wipes his face.
Deep toe indents mark the footprints of the tall runner racing ahead of me, her tight curls sticking to her forehead as she pushes on towards the bright glow of the distant sun.
I rush into the cooling waves. The greedy sea slurps up my footprints, absorbing them into its depths, never to be seen again.
