Daddy, There is Sand in my Bed

I don't know how old I was, but I remember it vividly. My parents took us camping all the time. On one such journey, I remember trying to sleep and not being able to. We were in a pop up tent trailer with two beds, one on each side. My parents slept on one side, and my brothers slept on the other. I slept on the floor in the middle. I know I complained that I was uncomfortable and there was stuff in my bed bothering me, but I don't know what I said. I am sure I was whiney and crying and being spoiled rotten.

My dad got up and changed places with me.

I have told that story many times and finally my mother said "Well you know where we were don't you?"

"No" I said in disbelief that she hadn't brought it up before

"South Padre Island, right on the beach. You sat under the trailer all day, playing in the sand and as soon as you were done, you wanted that sand off of you and everything around you."

So you see folks I haven't changed a bit...

Now I take a shower as soon as I return home, I know I have mentioned it before, but there it is again as I sit here with sandy feet (just got back from my last walk along the shoreline) and I am feeling too lazy or sad to get up and wash them off.

Daddy.. where are you when I need you?

I miss him greatly, but I remember the best things... like when he slept in my sandy bed so I didn't have to.