The Sandman is Watching

The Sandman is Watching

Life started at 10:23 am, on a warm, sunny, June Saturday, when ten years old Mae, and her father, placed the finishing touches on their creation.

A sandman's life is short, lasting only as long as the next storm, or high tide. Once created we immediately know everything. We can do nothing. Nothing except observe what is happening around us, and only around us. The sands, shapeless and lifeless, absorbing everything happening but feel nothing. Until we are shaped. Then we take on the personality of our shape and the heart of our creators.

It is both a frustrating and exhilarating experience. Frustrating, because we can do nothing about what we see or know. Exhilarating and rewarding, because we experience all the emotions that emanate from the activities we observe, with the strength that comes from knowing our existence is short. Only as long as the next high tide or storm.

"Thanks, daddy", a little boy said. They were standing, almost out of my peripheral vision. "I know you don't like the beach, especially the water. But you took me anyway. Why?"

"I needed to do it for you. You love the beach"

Fortunately, I was created early in the day. I can see everything in front of me, and feel everything going on around me, at once. The beach is still quiet now, 10:30.

Mae was still standing in front of me, holding her father's hand, proudly looking at their work.

"Can we call him Roundy, daddy?

"Roundy? That's a strange name for a sandman."

"It's too early for the Sandman, silly. It is light out. Nobody needs to go to sleep. And he is round"

"Can't fight logic, Roundy it is" Hello Mr. Roundy"

"It is a girl, silly daddy. Hello Miss. Roundy"

"How really silly of me. Of course, it is a girl. My apologies Miss Roundy".

May gave out a shout of delight, as her father picked her up and swung her around, before carrying her off to their blanket, out of my range of experience.

As May and her father recede, others appear. Like magic, they are suddenly there. I find it funny how they all go through the same set of actions as they prepare for the day. First, they stand in the middle of the space they choose and look at the other beach lovers around them. Satisfied they lift up their heads and squint at the sun, before redirecting their eyes at the beach before them. Finally, they smile, nod their head and proceed to spread out the towel or blanket they intend to shortly lay on, soaking up the sun. They take a final look at the beach around them. before laying down.

I can't experience what it is like to look upon the expanse of water behind me, except through the emotions of the people in front of me, when they are looking at it. I feel the moisture coming from the incoming water. I hear the sounds of the waves and from the people splashing and frolicking in the still cold water. I was created with my eyes facing the wide area of sand and humanity before me. I see the brothers engrossed in a game of frisbee, while their wives set up the chairs, chips, beer, and food for the day. I especially love listening to the young ones. Their screams of joy running as they run into the water. Their mother's and father's rushing after them, screaming, "Don't you dare go into the water until I get there, Sally or Tom, or Abdullah as the name applies.

A beach is a wonderful place to live. Filled with all the emotions, desires, hopes and fears that exist in this plane of life. People from all of humanity come, relax, and release. I absorb it all. It fills me like a gourmet meal. My existence may be short, but so fulfilling, so exhilarating.

The sun has reached its apex. I can feel the warmth, on the top of my head, releasing the moisture enclosed. It will still be a while before high tide when my existence will cease

The change happened suddenly. What was a light, cheerful feeling, becoming tense and dark. People began rushing up toward the beach. Wives gripping their partner's hands, tight, tense. The sounds of shouting, and beating upon waves emanated from behind me. The ten year old boy and his father stood to my left, both transfixed upon the activity happening behind me.

"Don't worry daddy. The lifeguards already have him. He will be ok.

HIs father continued to stare, remembering a time before. There was nothing he could have done then. Nothing he could do now. It made no difference. He felt like a coward with his brave son beside him, comforting him. His brother drowning in the lake at the family's country cabin. He stood there powerless, feeling like a coward, like now, as his brother screamed for him to help. By the time father pulled him out of the lake, it was too late. Father blamed him, and never forgave him. He never forgave himself. His son didn't know why he was shaking. His son could do nothing to calm him. Nothing but to stand there, by his side, holding his hand, loving him as much as any son could love a father. Making sure he knew it. Making sure he felt his love.

Sounds of joy first came from near the water, then spread around the beach as it became known that the swimmer would be ok. Amazingly, the climate on the beach changed. Instantly. People went back to their sandcastles, their food, their families. The silence over the beach converted to screeches of joy and laughter. Next to me, the boy let go of his father's hand and jumped into his arms. He was not ready and they both fell landing on the sand, laughing and tickling each other.

I can feel the earth's rotation, and the heat rising from the sand around me, as the afternoon sun reaches the pinnacle of its power. Food emerging from containers to the anticipation of the hungry beachgoers. "I want more ketchup daddy", one child pleads, as her brother just goes after his food. "let's go up to the boardwalk and eat" a girlfriend suggests.

Afternoon sounds are different than morning sounds. Morning sounds are filled with anticipation and sometimes dread. Afternoon sounds are more restive. Some of the day's participants, accepting the passing of the hours resting on their blankets. Others, determined to make the most of the remaining hours, more anxious.

"We can stay late, He will be away until Wednesday", a young woman suggests. "relax.

"Are you sure. He can be dangerous". Maybe he is having you followed. I don't trust him. "

"I wasn't. He isn't. I was careful."

"He said he would kill you if he caught you again."

"He won't. He can't live without me. He might beat me. I can take it. I will take it. As long as I can spend some time with you."

The two women exchanged looks and embraced, before walking back to their spot under the boardwalk.

I don't know why I notice some things happening more than others. I sense them all. At once. Some stand out. Others force themselves on my consciousness. Like the temperature on the sand around me beginning to decrease as the earth continues on its rotation, and the sun appears to recede in the west. Parents yell, last time, as their children rush to the waters for a final swim. The dire activity from earlier in the day, forgotten by the children. Their parents keenly watching, anxiously, the memory still fresh.

Time passes. The air and the ground get colder. The sound of shuffling feet and collapsing volleyball nets get louder. Children complain, not wanting the day to end. Not willing to let their parent's attention move on to other weekly concerns. Away from them.

"Thank you, father, Mae says. There is a sadness in her voice. "Will I see you before next month".

"I'll see if I can work it out with your mother. None of that now. I know. It's not fair. Sometimes things have to be not fair. But what you should never forget. Never. Is that both your mother and I love you and always will. Now give me a smile and a hug. Tonight, we all eat together. "Pasta night".

Mae jumped up, shooting her short arms around his neck. They held each other tight for a few minutes, before picking up their stuff and following the crowd to the parking lot, just beyond the boardwalk.

The beach is never really empty. As the sun goes down, and the people leave, the pigeons arrive, followed by an assortment of crabs and other shellfish. All scampering around, savaging for food, playing and fighting. The young lovers watch from their nest under the boardwalk. When security arrives to check out the beach, they move into a crawlspace, unnoticed.

The beach is quiet, and chilly now. The sky is clear, the moon full. In the distance, you can hear the sound of cars. I had expected people to sneak back onto the beach, but no one arrived. The sound of cars from the nearby highway buzzed the silence. The young couple snuggled under the boardwalk.

My time is growing short. I can feel the moisture from the approaching ocean getting closer as the tide rises.

The sound of cars racing toward the beach broke the silence of the night. They came to a screeching halt on the boardwalk just over the young lovers, who now seem to hold each other's hand in fear.

Four large men in suits emerged from the front and rear car. The center, larger car stood still. The men scampered down the steps and began to search under the boardwalk. The two young woman screamed as they were dragged out from their hideaway by their hair.

One of the women was slapped hard. "Quiet".

The silence seemed longer then it was. I could sense the ocean levels beginning to rise. The door of the center car opened and another large man, better dressed, emerged, walked over to the rail on the boardwalk and looked down on the scene.

"John, don't do this".

"Save your breath Georgette, he has no conscience."

"She's right you know. I have no conscience. I do have a weakness. You."

"You can kill me, John, but I love her and I always will."

"Yes and because of that you will always remember this night.".

Another man got out of the center car, with a heavy burlap bag; that he carried down the steps with him. They removed the heavy chains from the bag and wrapped them around her lover. They then dragged her, screaming, out to the ocean and the boat coming in with the tide.

Georgette started screaming again. "John don't do this; Please I beg you."

"Turn her around. I want her to watch. Remember this babe. This is what will happen every time you hurt me".

They pulled the young lover into the boat. The rising tide reached me. I sensed the fear on the beach, as my life began to wash away. The last thing I heard was the screaming, coming both, from the beach, and the boat occupied by the two of the men and the young lover, moving out to the deep water.