My momma always said that an amount of hoarded dust could form a man.
So what would happen if, as I stand digging my toes in the sand, a mighty gust would blow and swirl the grains of sand, would a figure appear? What could that figure be if he grabs my hand gently to him?
The ocean is calming and cool and I feel the chameleon in me change colours from the fiery red to the tranquil blue. And his grip tightens. I think he senses my hesitance: My 'Sandman' he says his name is.
My toes seek after the earthy grains and its welcoming warmth again. I breathe deeply and take in every salty-sweet scent. And he hugs me close, my hands still locked in his. And I glance down at myself to notice pearl beading across a white silken gown billowing in the wind, its so long it pools in the moist sand. Automatically my hand flies to my hair flowing down my back and around my shoulders in waves and curls- What is today?
"My muscles are all bunched up, my nerves tethered and tied to balloon strings..."
The clouds come rolling in and in my ear I hear: "Mighty the showers of blessing" and a drop or two graze my nose and his lips touch my cheek.
My Sandman scribbles in the moist sand: "Happiness is what you make of it, little girl" and just below that he carves the sand with the words: "Will you be happy with me? Could you be happy with a sandman as a husband?" and he slowly curves a heart around the words: "Would you be mine?"
And I smile because this little girl knows that this right here is everything she's ever dreamt of.
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