Sandcastle Kingdom

I still remember how the ocean breeze gently brushed against my face, the salty air lingering all around me. The waves sang to me like a sweet lullaby, the sunlight spilled across the sea like fresh strokes on an oil painting. Children's laughter drifted across the open field. Kites danced against the blue canvas of the sky, as children ran barefoot through the grass, chasing invisible winds and lifting their colourful paper birds higher into the sky. A family knelt in the wet sand, buckets in hand. This damp strip of shoreline was not merely a beach; it was a shoreline where children's kingdoms rose, each destined to last only until evening. When the tide finally crept in, the vast empire slowly dissolved, its proud walls surrendering to the sea until all that remained was a memory. I longed to be there, lost beneath the golden-hour sky, anchored by nothing more than the gentle rhythm of the waves and the quiet kindness of the breeze.

There was once a time when I desperately wanted to fulfill a little wish of mine. It all started with a  picture from a school trip that I missed because of my condition. I saw my students swimming in a pool. A sudden urge of adrenaline rushed through my body. I kept thinking of a short getaway, either to the beach or to a public pool, just for a swim, or at least to dip my toes into the cool water. In my mind, I could already picture myself walking along the shore, letting the gentle waves refresh my spirit. It was during my pregnancy. You were there. Your tiny flutters and joyful kicks became our own secret language. I knew you were safe in my womb. I had no idea whether it was because of the hormonal waves  or because I was simply overreacting, but everything felt surreal and overwhelming. So, I told your father.

Days passed, yet the traffic light remained stubbornly red. My little wish had to wait. Your father's tight schedule made it impossible for him to grant my wish. Moreover, it was getting ridiculous because I was nearing my due date, and I couldn't even walk properly. I soothed myself, thinking it was for my own good. Then, one day, the light finally turned green.

My wish had finally been granted. Your grandparents brought me along on one of their trips back to their hometown in Kuantan. What's even funnier is that my father proudly announced in our family WhatsApp group that his heavily pregnant daughter wanted to go swimming and attached my picture to the message. Luckily, no one questioned my weird craving. My uncles and aunts responded with laughter and prayers for my health. Along the way, we stopped at the beach. I was so excited when I saw the signboard that read "Pantai Penunjuk". My parents ordered a variety of local dishes to fill our hungry stomachs. Not to mention ICT (ikan celup tepung), one of my local favourites. My face was unbelievably puffy, but I happily ate everything anyway. My mother kept reminding me to be extra careful because everything looked dangerously slippery to her, especially with my belly about to pop anytime soon. No matter how old I get, they never cease to try to make my wish come true, in their own way. I may not have been able to swim with my bloated, pufferfish-like belly, but just being there is enough to make me feel alive.

Just a month later, you were born. Life continued writing its story through our days, constantly turning pages we thought were final. The second green light appeared during our Eid trip. On our way home from Batu Pahat, the traffic was at a standstill, so we decided to stay one night in Port Dickson. This time, your paternal grandparents brought us to the beach.

It was a sunny morning. After having breakfast at a stall  that we found quite pricey despite its small size and simple ambience, we stopped by Pantai Bagan Pinang, where nobody else was around. They insisted on taking us because you kept drooling and they believed it was because my wish to go swimming had never truly been fulfilled. Classic old wives' tales. I simply nodded every time. After introducing you to the sand and the water and capturing those precious moments through photographs, your grandparents offered to take care of you and asked me to enjoy my time playing in the water as much as I wanted. Your grandparents even bought steamed corn from a seller who happened to pass by. Before we went home for real, we ate lunch at a place that served Negeri Sembilan's iconic dish—masak lomak. Even now, thinking about it suddenly makes me hungry.

Yesterday, I felt your joyful kicks in my womb, but today, your tiny feet are kicking the sand before me. Before, I carried a tiny seed of hope waiting to grow. Now, I watch my hope grow, making a face when your father dipped you in the water, silently telling everyone how ticklish you were. Yesterday, I traced only my name on the sand to celebrate my being there. Today, I traced our names, along with a little drawing of your bald head, as a keepsake to hold onto.

I watch you grow every day, yet I hardly notice time passing. It suddenly hit me how fast time had flown when the tiny clothes you wore yesterday no longer fit you and the reminder on my phone about your first solid meal popped up. I'm so grateful that I get to witness every milestone you reach. It may seem like an ordinary day, but with you, every moment becomes an adventure I'll fondly look back on one fine day. Just like this beach, it held a special place in my heart. Every memory of the beach brings a smile to my face. May we get to spend our time again there, marvelling at God's beautiful creations and building another sandcastle kingdom. Although it wasn't destined to last, the tide may wash away the names I traced in the sand and the footprints we left behind, but one thing I'm sure of is this: the fond memories will always bring us back to our good old times.

I hope you'll always understand that although the tide may wash away everything we made, our love for you will never be washed away.