Sifting, sifting, The sand slipping through my slender fingers.  I am eight, and I sit on the ground in the alley just behind our backyard chain link fence. Dirt gets underneath my nails, and my sun-browned legs are dust coated. I am looking for treasure.. shimmering mica flakes, and especially the raw, red, multi-edged sand rubies, so tiny amidst the grit. I swirl the dirt in my hand and pluck them out into a glass jar. I squint my eyes and hold them up to the Arizona sun. So red, so precious. Mine.

Forty-odd years later, there is only dirt in the alley.