A Imprint in the Sand

Leaving the cedar mulch behind, I climbed onto the wide timber rim of the park sandbox. Inside lay a deserted landscape of packed beige sand, crisscrossed by shallow dunes and abandoned plastic trenches. I leaned over the edge and carefully pressed my heavy, flat front foot into a smooth, untouched mound. The granular surface gave way with a soft, dry crunch, compacting tightly around the contour of my foot. When I pulled back, a crisp, three-toed impression remained etched into the grains, looking just like an ancient trace fossil frozen in stone. I took another measured step, adding a second track beside it.