On The Loss of Emily's Pink Shovel

The shovel was in my hand. But only for a second. Then a wave smashed around my knees and beat it from my grip. I plunged my hands into the churning surf.

But it was too late. Emily's pink shovel was lost. Forever.

A few moments earlier, Emily (4) had been dashing into the waves, laughing and giggling. It was our first official day at the beach. Emily was dressed in a green and brown flower print sun dress and was carrying her yellow bucket and pink shovel.

I had been watching her bend and collect water in her pail. Then she ran up the sand and poured the sea into a hole she had dug. She watched with saucer eyes as the water seeped into the earth. Then she ran back to the ocean's edge for more.

We had both been smiling and laughing. And I had been thinking "This is a perfect day."

That's when everything changed.

I had seen the wave tumbling toward the shore. It was heading straight toward Emily. I raced toward her side. But I was too slow. The wave crashed over Emily. It pushed her to the ground and jerked her precious treasure from her hands.

I pulled Emily from the surf. "Are you OK?"

"My bucket." she screamed.

The yellow pail was swishing at my legs. I grabbed it and pulled it from the water. But before I could rescue the pink shovel, another wave swept around us and stole it from my finger tips.

I turned and looked at Emily. Her eyes were wide and hopeful.

"I'm sorry honey" I whispered.

When Emily saw my empty hands she pointed to the ocean and burst into tears. "Mommy, go and get it."

"Honey, I can't. The ocean took it."

The pink shovel was Emily's favorite. We had been driving to the beach every summer since she was born. And every year she would build spectacular castles with her little pink shovel.

Now it was gone.

But that wasn't all that was gone.

Up until now, Emily had believed her Mama was a superwoman. Mama could heal boo boos with magic mommy kisses. Mama could scare away monsters that snuck into closets. Mama could do anything.

But not anymore.

Now Emily knew the truth. There were some problems that were even too big for Mama. And the ocean was one of them.

In my mind's eye, I flashed forward. I saw a fifteen year old Emily crying after her first boyfriend broke her heart. And I was helpless to fix it. I saw a twenty year old Emily sitting in her dorm cramming for her Calculus final. And I was helpless to fix it. I saw a forty year old Emily struggling to pay the bills. And I was helpless to fix it.

Emily and I stood together by the side of the ocean. We held hands and watched the surf churn and tumble. Our eyes scanned toward the horizon, hoping against hope to catch sight of Emily's toy. Finally, I picked up my little girl, hugged her close and carried her back to our house.

"It's all right, Honey Bee." I said as I patted her back.

Less than an hour later, Emily had already gotten over the lost shovel. But every day, for the remainder of the week, I walked to the water's edge and scanned the surf.