Why couldn't Mom see that every moment was precious?

I can feel my skin burning from the strong sun, and I know my nose will be a mess of peeling skin tonight. My eyes are still stinging from the salty water, and gritty sand is everywhere, in my hair, under my nails, between my teeth.

I’m surrounded by the familiar scent of lotion, ocean, freedom. Right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I look up from the sand castle I’m building, shield my eyes with a hand to take it all in: there’s Mommy and Daddy, lying on their beach chairs, reading; Steve is flirting with the edge of the water, going up to his knees, then jumping back; and Michael… I scan the area. Where’d Mike go off to?

Before I have the chance to turn around, I see his fleeting shadow from the corner of my eye, and suddenly, Michael is crashing into my castle, laughing wildly. He’s a boy-man, his 15 years pushing past the constraints of his physical body, a sulky figure who will suddenly burst with energy.

And now he’s ruined my creation, the structures and turrets and moat, even the arrow-slits that Steve had helped me with. In shock, I just stare, stare, at this brother of mine, ten years my senior.

My silence shocks him into awareness, and he seems momentarily confused by my response.

“What?” he half-laughs, shrugs. “It was going to get ruined tonight by the tide, anyway.” Is he embarrassed? Regret is quickly replaced by a nonchalant sneer; he isn’t comfortable with the language of emotions.

I look at the ruined edifice and shake my head as the tears gather.

It’s not the same at all.

I clutch the phone tightly, trying to find a lifeline in this tumultuous conversation.

“Lisa, give it up. You’re not going to be able to change Mom’s mind.” Steve is kind, but emphatic.

My heart sinks. I’d harbored no great expectations of Mike, but I’d really hoped Steve would side with me. Despite our external differences, we’d always shared a unique bond, and I knew him as a sensitive, authentic individual. Surely there was some spirituality there?

I nod morosely, belatedly realizing that he can’t see me over the phone.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Steve could do that, be firm and yet so gentle with me. Even in his insistence, it’s the softness in his voice that triggers a lump in my throat.

“Yeah,” I manage to force out. He must hear the crack in my voice, the sounds of my blocked nose. He gives a heavy sigh.

“Lis, I see how much this is getting to you. Maybe it’s time to give it up?”