It was a really windy afternoon, and you were writing your name on the sand, with a happy face at the end and a heart on the top.
Then we started walking to the green rocks, a long uneven walk.
-What do I do with the stick I used to write on the sand? You asked.
-Keep it, I replied.
-“Oh yeah, you will need it when you’re old and unable to walk” You said.
-I’m never getting old son.