Master of the Universe

Until the age of 11, my favorite thing in the world was to left alone at the beach or along a stream to build. What I built always depended on where I was. If I was by rocky stream, I would build dams and if I was on the beach I would  build sprawling sand castles with foot thick walls.

I would spend an hour pacing my construction site, thinking about how it could best be utilized. Next, it was time to gather provisions. I would walk the surrounding area filling my towel or sweatshirt with supplies. Interesting rocks, shells, water worn sticks... my mind racing to figure out exactly how they would fit into the big picture.

I would put endless time and attention into these small feats of engineering, and I could not be pulled away by any means or for any reason until the creek was stopped, the fleet was fully outfitted or the castle stood impervious above the tide. My parents would try to coax me away with food or trips to other places -- but nothing in the world could be as important as realizing my vision for that particular spot.

As the sun was going down, and it was time to go home I would survey my creation. 500 lbs of rock bringing nature to a stop. Mountains of sand surveying miles of beach. The moment of seeing my dream realized was sometimes almost too much to handle. With my hands raw from sand and rock, my muscles sore and my face sun burned I wound stand for a moment knowing I was the master of the universe.

Then the surge of pain would come. 

The water might get around the damn. 

The older kids might wreck my castle. 

I feared the monuments I had built to me and my ability would never stand the test of time.

With that knowledge I would destroy what I had built until there was nothing.