Kit's New Toy

          "Honey, what did I tell you about going that far down the beach?" asked a grandmother to a little boy. He was running full speed, making his way between the eroded sand dunes, holding something in his left hand.

          "Look, Grandma! Look what I found!" The boy approached the old woman standing at the edge of their backyard, leaning upright against the gate of a small picket fence. When the child had reached within eyesight of the old woman, the wrinkles on her face turned into a frown.

          "It's so cool!" yelled the boy. In his hand were the broken remains of a hula-hoop. It was covered with seaweed. "Do you think we can fix it?" he asked holding up the busted plastic toy before his grandmother. It took her a few minutes to regain her focus on the child from looking towards the far end of the beach.

          "Kit..." the grandmother started. "May I tell you a story?" she asked taking the broken toy from the child.

          "Yes, please!" said Kit taking a plop in the sandy backyard.

          "When I was younger, even smaller than you, my father used to take me down to that beach every weekend. I loved it. The dunes were so big we would play hide and seek. We would spend hours splashing in the waves and building castles.

          "Why can't we go then?" Kit asked, running his fingers through the sand. The grandmother took a deep breath before continuing.

          "As I got older, my father stopped taking me. Why would he do that?" she asked.

          "Did you get in trouble?" asked Kit. The old women gave a smile, releasing a slight chuckle.

          "No, honey, I was not in trouble. I didn't know why at the time. Of course, I was curious like you are, so I snuck out of this house one evening to hopefully find an answer. I was so excited, but something was different when I got there," continued the grandmother. Kit's eyes were big and round. His full attention was now on his grandmother.

          "There was stuff on the beach. Not shells or jellyfish. Trash. There wasn't a lot of it so I was confused as to why my father stopped taking me. As I got older I started going out with friends and eventually forgot about it."

          "There's lots of trash now," stated Kit with a somber tone.

          "Correct. As old age has taken me over, I have seen that beach transform. Fewer and fewer people go there. Piles of useless junk cover the dunes and shore. Over the past decade, I have spent just about every Saturday filling bags of clutter hoping to stop it, but these old hands are not enough."

          "I can help! I want to play on the same beach that you did, grandma!" said Kit jumping to his feet.

          "That is very sweet of you, honey, but we need more than just us. Let's fix this thing," said the grandmother as they headed inside.