She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. Her name was pandora. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and look up, her eyes as blue as blue pandora silver.
Hello, she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. “I am building,” she said.
“I see it. What is that?” I asked, not caring.
“Oh, I don’t know, just like the feel of sand.” That sounds great, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. She said it was a joy. Her mom said sandpipers came to bring us joy.
“Good bye joy” I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.
Afterwards, she asked my name, and told me her lovely name. She said she had a happy day and she appraised my pandora bracelet. She asked me to come again.
The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly boy scouts, PTA meeting, and ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hand out of the dishwasher. “I need a sandpiper” I said to myself, putting on my pandora charms. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared. She said hello to me like before. We talked for a while.
“Where do you go to school?” I asked her. She said “I do not go to school. My mom says we re on vacation.”  We strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, she said it had been a happy day.
“look, if you do not mind,” I said crossly when she caught up with me;” I would rather be alone today.” She seems unusually pale and out of breath.
“Why?” she asked. I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, my god. Why was I saying to this little child?
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-color hair wearing pandora necklace opened the door.
She was the mother of that sweet girl. I asked about the little girl. She told me she died last week. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.” struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.
“She loved the beach, so when she asked to come, we could not say no. she seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly…” her voice faltered. “she left something to you, if only I can find it. Could you wait for a minute as I look?”
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely girl. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MRS.P printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues—a yellow beach like pandora gold, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed; A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
 Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. The picture was a gift from a child with sea—blue eyes like pandora jewelryand hair the color sand – who taught me the gift of love.