An Exercise in Futility

I’m suckered in every time. Every time. Maybe it’s the impetuosity of the children, or their unending optimism, but they convince me, every time, that we can hold back the inrushing tide. What we need are bigger walls, they say. Bigger stones to baffle the incoming sea. More defences to wear it down. But it has never worked. Not once. Ever.

I give in again, condemned to spend hours with my mini press gang, constructing elaborate defences. Walking miles to collect the best shaped stones and rocks to make dry our walls. We build the central keep higher. But, despite our best efforts, the tide still runs past us mockingly, and attacks us from all sides.

Each day we dig enthusiastically, as if yesterday’s memory has been wiped like the traces of yesterday’s efforts. And still our walls fall.

This year we built Crab Fort and Jellyfish Fort but they all went the same way. Each day we built it bigger and better, so we thought. Each day the same outcome.

An exercise in futility.

And we’ll do it next year again.