I left my favorite dump truck on the beach last year.
I was using it to wheel away sand from the big hole I was digging—first time I'd ever dug deep enough to get to the wet sand. I was so excited I kept digging to make it as big as I could, and then I got so deep that I couldn't even get out by myself anymore. My mom and dad had to help me.
"You were gonna dig all the way to the other side of the world!" my dad said. He was laughing. "Good thing Mommy and I could still reach you before you got too far in!"
We packed up our beach stuff after that, and that's when I forgot my dump truck. We were always extra careful about not leaving things. I was always in charge of cleaning up my toys. But I think my truck was hiding behind all the sand I'd piled up and hadn't moved out of the way yet. I went back in the morning to get it before we went home, but it wasn't there.
My hole was, though.
Well, what was supposed to be my hole (that's how I knew where to look for my dump truck). Another kid must have tried to fill it back up after I left, because it was mostly just a crater when I came back. But I could still see how big it was when I first made it. It was a killer hole.
My dump trunk wasn't there, though. I wondered if the kid used it to fill my hole back up and then stole it. I could see why he would want it—it was awesome. Shiny red and yellow with big wheels, and it used to light up before the batteries died. Maybe the kid would put new ones in before he played with it. Hopefully he wouldn't leave it anywhere.
I started to cry.
My dad explained about the tide to me on the car ride back home. How the ocean comes in and out and washes things away to keep the beach clean and fun and pretty. He said it also probably filled what it could of my hole when I was asleep, too.
I didn't want to still be crying about my dump trunk, but I was. I was so angry I let this happen. My mom turned around from the front seat and told me, "It's okay, Johnny. We'll get a new one for next year's beach trip, I promise. But you gotta promise me something if we do, okay?"
I nodded. And rubbed my nose on my sleeve.
"You gotta promise to take good care of it next time. I know it was an accident, and Mommy should've helped you remember, but the ocean's no place for dump trunks. You understand?"
I said that I did. And that I couldn't wait to go back to the beach again.
Except when we did go back the next summer, the beach looked different.
It was like all the other families who were there before us weren't as careful about leaving stuff when they packed up at the end of the day. My parents were mad about it. I was too. Especially because even though I brought a bunch of new beach toys for sandcastles and holes this year, I kinda forgot about getting a new dump truck.
I really could've used it to help wheel some of this stuff away.
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