Tiny Trees

Intro

This story was inspired by the #PromptCombo word prompt of “Monument.”

Instead of thinking about monuments themselves, I found myself wondering how children might understand the idea. Their questions often wander in unexpected directions, and sometimes ending up closer to the truth than the answers adults take for granted.

Tiny Trees

The beach was already crowded by the time Mia and Logan claimed the perfect spot. Between them sat two plastic buckets, three shovels, a bag of seashells they’d insisted on bringing from home “just in case,” and enough determination to reshape the coastline.

“Our castle needs a moat,” Mia announced, patting wet sand into a tower with the seriousness of an architect.

“It needs a dragon,” Logan replied.

“We don’t have a dragon.”

“We could make one.”

“We barely made a square.”

Logan looked at their lopsided castle. One tower leaned so far to the left it seemed to be listening to the ocean.

“I think it has character.”

“I think it’s melting.”

He scooped another pile of sand onto the nearest wall. It immediately collapsed.

“We’re gonna need more character.”

After nearly an hour of digging, rebuilding, and arguing over whether seashells counted as windows, they finally stepped back to admire their work.

“It’s amazing,” Logan declared.

Mia folded her arms.

“It’s… pretty good.”

“People are gonna come from all over to see it.”

“They’re at the beach already.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“The tide’s gonna wash it away.”

Logan stared at the waves.

“…That seems rude.”

“It doesn’t know it’s art.”

He thought about that for a moment.

“We should build something the tide can’t wash away.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. A giant rock.”

Mia shrugged.

“That’s kind of what a monument is.”

Logan turned slowly.

“A what?”

“You know… one of those things people build so everybody remembers somebody important.”

He frowned.

“Can I get a monument?”

Mia looked him up and down.

“For what?”

“I ate all my broccoli last Tuesday.”

“That’s not monument-worthy.”

“It was for me.”

She opened her mouth to disagree, then paused.

“…How much broccoli?”

“The whole plate.”

“Even the tiny trees?”

“They’re all tiny trees.”

“The little little ones.”

Logan nodded solemnly.

“I didn’t even use ketchup.”

Mia considered this new evidence.

“Okay… that’s more impressive.”

“I know.”

“But I still don’t think they build monuments for broccoli.”

“They should.”

“What would yours look like?”

Logan didn’t hesitate.

“A giant broccoli.”

Mia groaned.

“People would think it’s for vegetables.”

“It IS for vegetables.”

“No, it’s for you.”

“Exactly.”

She sighed.

“This is why you shouldn’t be in charge of monuments.”

Logan picked up a shell and stuck it on the tallest tower.

“Who decides, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the mayor.”

“The mayor gets to decide who’s important?”

“I guess.”

“So if I become mayor…”

“You are absolutely not building yourself a broccoli monument.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You just thought about it.”

“I was going to build TWO.”

Mia laughed so hard she accidentally knocked the tallest tower over.

“There,” Logan said. “Now it’s historic.”

They rebuilt it anyway.

A few minutes later the first wave reached the moat.

Then another.

The walls softened.

One tower leaned.

Another disappeared completely.

They watched without saying anything until the last little pile of sand dissolved back into the beach.

Logan sighed.

“You know…”

“What?”

“I’m kinda glad it wasn’t a monument.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause tomorrow we get to build another one.”

Mia smiled, grabbed her bucket, and started walking toward the water.

“This one,” she said, “is definitely getting a dragon.”

“Now THAT,” Logan declared, racing after her, “deserves a monument.”