And Love is What Remains

A couple of weeks ago, while the weather was still wintery in our sweet, little beach town of San Clemente, California, Angel Daughter Number Four called me from the pier to let me know that there was something that I needed to see.  She was quite insistent that what she was calling about was worth the outing.  She reminded me to bring my camera.  Mark and I hopped into the car and when we met up with our youngest, she was proudly standing in front of this temporary artwork.  Unfortunately, we had just missed the artist, but some of his work still remained, undisturbed.
AD4 explained to us that the man who had created these fleeting works of art, did so with nothing more than a broom, a dustpan and the sand which had been tracked up from the beach on the soles of people's shoes.  No stencils, no chalk, no cut-outs.  He calls himself the "Sandman at Play" and his medium is nothing but sand.
As we stood there in amazement, people went about their business taking little, if any, notice in the drawings that were just below their feet.  I found myself cringing as I watched one person after the next walk through these lovely designs.  But then I realized.  I realized that if the Sandman had become so adept at creating drawings out of nothing but the sand on the sidewalk and a broom, he meant for them to be temporary.  He knew that his work would be viewed only by those who were fortunate enough to be passing through at the time that he was creating his drawings.  His vanishing sand-sketches blending back in with the pavement, returning to what had been before he arrived.
How circular and beautifully crafted our lives truly are.  We begin from something that is seemingly not here, but then it is, and then we are...We move through our lives, artfully, connecting with others here, leaving our footprints there.  When it is time, we move on.  Yet there is always something we leave behind even if that something is no longer concretely tangible.  By being here, we changed something.  We touched someone.
The Sandman left this short message behind before he disappeared back into the crowd with his broom and his dustpan.  And it reminded me.  It made me realize that when things are done right, even after the artist has moved on, and his design returns back to its organic state, there is something of it that will always remain.  There is something of us which will always remain.  To me, that something is love.

And love can never be erased.