The children were excited to be visiting their grandparents, who lived near the sea side. They loved to play in the surf that tickles their toes. They loved to chase the little minnows through the shallows. The only things they didn’t love was the tide. To be sure, high tide was their favorite time of day, when they could do what they wished to in the water. But at low tide, they could do none of that. So they stood at the top of the beach and waited.

They wanted to run through the surf, trying to avoid the waves.

But they had to wait.

They wanted the little fishes to nibble their toes.

But they had to wait.

They wanted to dig their feet into the soft wet sand.

But they had to wait.

They wanted to see the little crabs come creeping out from beneath their rocks.

But they had to wait.
The tide seemed to come up so slowly, the children thought that surely it would never be high enough. Surely it would stop before they could do all they wanted to do. Tears filled the children’s eyes at the though. They would never get to run through the water, and let the little fish tickle their toes, or dig their feet into the soft sand, or see the little crabs. But just in case, they waited.

But, just as it does every day, the tide continued to rise, just as it does every day, until it was high enough for the waves to tickle the children’s toes from where they stood at the top of the beach.

Finally free to play in the water, they raced into it.

They ran through the water, trying to avoid the waves.

They let the little fishes nibble their toes.
They dug their feet into the soft, wet sand made by the waves.

They watched the tiny crabs come out from under the rocks.
But then the tide began to go out again, and the children had to go to bed, with memories of the tide.

The next morning, they stood at the top of the beach waiting.

They wanted to run through the water, and try to avoid the waves.

But they had to wait.