On a Monday in November, the beach here on Topsail Island is sparsely populated, and Heidi and I met only a few people as we walked the dog around noon. Most were fishing; they had their surfcasting rigs, cleaning tables, and roller coolers with knobby wheels all set up, but there were a few families and a couple of other walkers, too.
Earlier in the day, Bill and Emily had seen both an eel slipping in and out of its sandy hole as well as what seemed to be an injured loon, and so when I spotted four men on their hands and knees up the beach, I wondered if they were involved with either of those. As we drew nearer, we saw that the four were Latinx guys in workmen's clothing and that we were in front of a hotel that was either undergoing a major renovation or demolition.
It made sense that they were enjoying the beach on their lunch break, but we were charmed to see that they were also drawing hearts in the sand with messages inside, and one was now on his knees constructing a heart-shaped fortress.
"Nice!" I said, with a thumbs-up, as we walked by.
"Thank you!" he laughed.
And when we passed again on our way home, they were gone, but their hearts remained.
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