The sandcastle had maybe 20 turrets; the most ever, our biggest one we ever built. They need flags, you said. Flags make it a home. We went to the foot of dunes to find the best shells, this one like an ear, that one like a sword, another curved so perfectly it fit over your little finger like a cap. One was a shield you pressed to your chest like a sheriff, you said “It makes a place for your heart to be safe.” Over another hill we found a colony of nesting seabirds, behind a sign, “Protected” in big bold letters. You looked back at the castle, imagining our twenty colorful flags waving in the salty air, then took every shell we had and laid them there for the birds, one by one.

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