The Sand Turtle

By G. E. Shuman

We discovered the big turtle, buried only inches beneath the surface of the moist pile of sand. My daughter Emily and two of my grandchildren, Devon and Jaidyn were there with me at the time of the discovery. Only days into our Myrtle Beach spring vacation this year, the find was, indeed, a great one. By all accounts, this was one of the largest and most quickly uncovered sand turtles I had ever met, on any beach, anywhere.

I had asked the kids to help me find the turtle, and they immediately began digging and piling up the sand. “More sand!” I teasingly commanded as they toiled with plastic pails and tiny shovels. “If we are to get to the sand turtle, we must move a LOT of sand!” I watched as they worked, and encouraged them to get wet sand, because I knew how much big turtles love wet sand. Emily had been through this process many times over the years with me, but I had never uncovered a sand turtle with Devon and Jaidyn before. I hoped that the kids were all enjoying the discovery as much as I was.

But then, I came to a decision which was simply the wrong one for me to make at the time. We humans seem to do that from time to time. This human probably does it more often than most. The problem is that many situations call for decisions, and if those are to be made, then there are always chances for error. A right of left turn, a yes or no answer, can all lead to a happy or sad ending to any adventure. So can a decision involving the discovery of a huge sand turtle. As I said, the decision I made that sunny southern afternoon was the wrong one. And I wish now that I could take that decision back.

You see, the kids and I had come to the point of actually discovering the amazing turtle within the pile of sand, and I wanted it to go just right. On every sand turtle discovery vacation before this one, Emily has helped me uncover the massive turtles. But this time the grandkids were with us, and I had already bragged to them about all the years past, at the beach. I had told them of the other beach-goers stopping to admire, comment on, and photograph the turtles we always seem to find. I wanted this particular turtle to be the best ever, for them. So I asked, to my shame, for Emily to let me uncover the turtle by myself. It really seemed like a good decision to make at the time, as many wrong decisions do. In fact, it was such a good decision that I never noticed Emily and the other kids walking away to play together, without me. I was much too busy, spooning, shoveling and brushing away all the sand that was not turtle, leaving only that which was. After only a half hour or so, there he was… one of the biggest turtles that we, or I had ever uncovered in the sand. I was quite proud of the discovery. I was too proud of myself.

Soon Emily was back at my side, but she didn’t seem impressed with the big turtle at all. “What’s wrong?” I immediately asked, when I saw the look of disappointment on her face. “Don’t you like the turtle?”

“You did it all yourself, Dad. Usually I get to help.” She said, as she walked away again. I then realized that I had ruined, for this day, one of the most enjoyable things Emily and I share. You see, each beach vacation week we seem to only discover one large turtle, and this year, I had hogged the discovery.

The very next morning the kids and I walked out onto the beach to check the waves, and to see how the turtle had fared through the night. Even big sand turtles like ours need to be checked on once in a while, you know. To the kid’s slight disappointment, and to my shame, our turtle was nowhere to be seen. I could only surmise that he had somehow found his way, in the night, back to the sea. I had been sure we had uncovered him far enough up on the beach so that he would be safe from the tide, but, in this decision too, I had been wrong. Indeed, the vast Atlantic Ocean had called him back, and had wholly swallowed him up, even as we slept. The sand in which he had so proudly sat was now utterly featureless and flat. Not even a turtle footprint or any other trace was there to mark the spot, or show the path he had taken to get away. I knew we would never see the turtle again.

At that moment I realized, that just the day before, I had sorely disappointed my little girl over something that was here for only hours, and quickly gone, forever. I had made her a less than happy vacation memory, for the selfish and fleeting pride of a temporary accomplishment, and I was sad. I vowed to never let that happen again, and immediately asked Emily for her help in every future sand turtle discovery that I make.

Dear readers, all that we individually accomplish in life; anything we discover, uncover, or make, is temporary at best, as was my big turtle. Children and grandchildren grow up all too quickly. Let us never waste precious moments we can share with our loved ones, on pride, or possessions, or position, or other things made of sand.