A Yellow Truck
Mama said the sandpit was for sharing. I was not in the mood for sharing. The sandpit was mine, and the bucket was mine, and the place where I was making the very best castle in the world was definitely mine.
A small boy sat down next to me. He had a yellow truck.
He did not say hello. He did not ask if he could have my bucket. He just put his yellow truck in the sand, very carefully, and pushed it back and forth, making little roads.
After a long time, my castle had a wall. His roads went all the way around my wall.
"My truck needs to deliver bricks," he said.
"For my castle?" I said.
"Yes."
We did not say anything else for a while. The truck made deliveries. The castle grew bigger. A second wall happened. A tower.
When his mama came to get him, he said, "I am called Felix."
"I am called Pia," I said.
"Tomorrow?" he said.
"Tomorrow," I said.
That is how friendships start. Sometimes nobody even notices.