Testing the Sand

I followed the sidewalk down to the park and stopped at the timber border framing the playground sandpit. The heavy pine beam was smooth and weathered gray from the sun. I stepped up onto the timber, paused, and sized up the drop into the pale, fine sand below. With a controlled hop, I landed bent-kneed into the pit. The sand gave just an inch beneath my sandals before packing firm, catching my weight without any slipping. I straightened up, rolled my shoulders, and felt the steady warmth radiating up through the grains. It makes for good, honest footing.