paola and i used to play in the sandbox together in elementary school. i would get there first, because i was a lanky child with awkwardly long legs. i liked the sandbox, because i had never been to the beach before, and i knew that the closest i would ever get would be the little five by five pit of dirty sand that sat on top of the hill in the dovett elementary playground. i would sit there and start building a crumbly sandcastle, and she would get there five minutes later, and she would grab a fistful of sand and throw it at my face, because paola didn't like playing with other people. and i didn't like fighting, or causing scenes, so i would cough a little bit, and then get up and sit in the grass a few feet away. i would stare beyond the gate surrounding the playground, out towards the cars passing and the people walking their dogs, and i would feel the grimy sand residue that was still sticking to my face and the back of my khaki skirt, and i would listen to the sound of sand passing through paola's fingers, and i would dream about the beach. some days, paola was absent, or she would just decide that throwing sand in my face was too much effort that day, and i would get to sit in the sandbox and make little sand angels, while she picked up fistfuls of sand and let the grains run though her fingers. she was the only one who would play with me, so the days that she was absent were usually worse than the ones where she threw sand at me. anyways, i guess this is all just to say, paola moved away to cape cod in '92, and i've been stuck in a sea of suburbia my whole life. it's funny, 'cause the last, and only, thing she ever told me was that she never really liked sand, or the beach, very much.