The waves lapped up onto the sand beach and, curiously, I peeked between the rocks lining the waterway, finding crabs wedged between them, even a star fish down on the bottom of the sea floor.
Kai was splashing about int he waves, as he typically did, and Poala had set up her little easel, painting the view she saw. Apparently she'd painted this scene many times, or at least that's what Kai had pointed out, to which she'd replied, "And yet, none of them ever come out the same." She insisted that the world was ever changing and each season presented a new picture for her to draw, and a new opportunity to make something wonderful out of a fresh canvas.
Poala was incredibly optimistic, it seemed, and whatever she said was law.
Kai never argued with her, always fetching whatever she asked
