“Hey, Mom?” 8-year-old Emma asked as we picked our way through the slippery rocks on the beach. “Do we have to go to college?”
Hmm. New question.
“No, I suppose you don’t have to,” I answered. “It depends on what you want to be when you grow up. I had to go to college to be what I wanted to be. Dad had to go to college to be what he wanted to be.”
“But I don’t wanna be anything,” she said simply.
“Well, you have to be something,” I said, choosing an alternate route through the rocks.
“I just want to stay home and watch TV,” she said.
“No way,” I answered, realizing she was playing. “You need to go into some kind of profession that’s important and makes a lot of money, so Dad and I can retire and come live with you.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” she said, laughing. “I want to live with you and Dad, and watch TV all day long. And play on the computer.”
About then we caught up with her 11-year-old brother, who was waiting for us.
“Hey Ben!” she hollered. “Mom says we don’t have to go to college. We just have to make lots of money so her and Dad can live with us when they’re old.”
“Well,” Ben interjected, “I’m not goin’ to college. I can’t wait to be out of school. I’m gonna be a professional ballplayer. I can’t decide if I want to play baseball or football.”
“Better pick baseball,” I suggested, “since you’ve never played football. But we know you’re pretty good at baseball.”
Ignoring me, he went on. “But, I think we oughta put Mom and Dad in a home, anyway. That way we can just visit ‘em when we want to.”
“Yeah,” Emma agreed enthusiastically.
“Good to know,” I said, and they laughed.
I turned around to look for 8-year-old Marthy, who was a bit behind us, stopping every few feet to pick up another rock or shell. I called to her to catch up with us before we went around a bend and wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. She looked up at me and smiled, hustling. I could see that her jacket pockets hung heavily around her thighs, signs of treasures found. And her left arm was cupped in front of her chest carrying still more beach treasures.
While we waited for her I squinted out at the water. It was a lovely winter day. Cold and crisp. The sky was lit up. The water, ocean water with just enough glacial run-off to turn it a milky sea foam green, sparkled in the sun. There were a few patches of snow left near the woods. I thought again, as I often do on walks like these, how fortunate I am to live in such a beautiful place.
“Hey Marth,” Emma yelled at her twin as soon as Marthy caught up to us, “Mom says we don’t have to go to college. She says we just hafta make lots of money so her and Dad can live with us. But Ben says we oughta just put ‘em in a home.”
Marthy grinned, seeing at once the humor in the conversation. “I wanna go to college, though.”
“Good,” I said, slipping my arm around her shoulders. “That way you’ll be important and can make a lot of money.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully, “I just wanna go to college.”
We cautiously wound our way around a small point, where at high tide there is no beach. The rocks were jagged, and slippery. We took our time and chose our way carefully.
“Once we’re on the other side of this, the rest is easy,” Ben encouraged his younger sisters. “Do you think the marker’ll still be there, Mom?”
I said I thought it would be.
The kids had gotten a metal detector from Grandma for Christmas. On one of their first outings with it we’d hiked out to a small point. While Geoff and I had sat visiting, and the two older girls tried out their new cameras, the three younger kids had explored with the metal detector. And they’d found something. But the ground was frozen solid and we’d been unable to dig up whatever that something was. They had pulled over a large rock and a piece of driftwood to mark the spot until later in the spring when hopefully the ground had thawed enough for us to dig up the “treasure.” Part of the purpose of today’s walk was to make our way back out to the point to check on the marker, and see if the ground was thawed enough yet to dig for their treasure.
“You know, Mom,” Ben continued, “if we can dig today we might find treasure. What will we do then?”
“Good question, Ben. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out.”
“How much of a chance do you think we have of it being a buried treasure chest?” he asked. His little sisters both turned to look eagerly at me.
“Probably not much of a chance,” I answered, hating to dash their hopes, but also wanting to be truthful.
“Yeah, but you never know,” he replied, optimistically.
“No, you never know,” I added encouragement.
We cut inland through the woods then for the last bit of our walk out to the point. Their anticipation was growing as we approached the site. Ben ran on ahead, and quickly returned to report to us that the marker was still there. All three ran on ahead to look at the marker.
When I came out of the trees and onto the sunny point, all three of them were on their knees around their marker, digging with sharp rocks.
“It’s still frozen,” Ben complained, pulling the markers back into place. “Looks like we’ll have to come back in another week or two.”
“Yeah,” his sisters agreed.
A little later, we wound our way back through the woods on our way to the car. None of the kids were terribly disappointed that they weren’t able to dig up their treasure today. And all three carried on a conversation about logistics. Just how would we get the treasure chest all the way back to the car without anybody interfering, and trying to get the treasure?
“So how’s this going to work?” I asked, stepping carefully around a muddy patch in the woods. “If you dig up a treasure chest, none of you have to go to college in order to be rich?”
“Yeah!” they agreed enthusiastically.
“But,” Ben conceded, “if it’s not a treasure then we’ll go to college. Okay, Mom?”
“Works for me,” I said, smiling.
And I imagine in years to come, when we’re scrambling to figure out how to cover all those college tuitions, I’ll think back to today. And our walk on the beach. And probably I’ll wish then that there really had been a treasure chest buried beneath our marker.
Postscript: Turns out it wasn’t a treasure chest. Ben is currently finishing his Masters, and Martha and Emma are each in their senior year at college.
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