“Did you go to the sandbar,” he asked.

“Yes, we were just there,” we answered.

“We’re going back,” he said with a tone of awe in his voice. “It’s like paradise.”

My 19-year-old niece, Meaghan, and I were in knee-deep water wading back from an expansive sandbar off Chapin Beach in Dennis, Mass. when we encountered the awe-struck boy, about 5 or 6-years-old.

He’s right. There’s something magical about a sandbar. Meg and I made our way out about an hour earlier, just as the sand began to break through the receding tide. At its deepest point en route to the sandbar, the water was about tip-toe-to-the-neck deep. We were among the first of dozens of beachgoers to reach high ground, staking our claim to the spot we estimated would be the first to crest above sea level.

A pilgrimage followed. First adults and older kids walking the expanding line of sand that curved toward the beach, then parents with young children toting pails and shovels – even a few beach chairs as families aimed to set up camp on the sand bar until it reached its peak and began to disappear until the next low tide.

As Meg and I waited to spot the first break of sand through the now-ankle-deep water where the sandbar would begin to reveal itself, I sat on the rippled sand and immediately felt like a child again. Kids saw me sitting in the shallow water and followed suit, encouraging their parents to join them and for a few minutes on a late summer day, we were all kids playing on a sandbar.

It was like paradise. I’m going back.

— Lisa Matte, editor in chief