A Little Hope

I've seen it since childhood. The (mostly) guys that come to the beach not for swimming or sunbathing or reading Tim Winton so the sounds of the waves accompany the surfers on his pages, but instead to comb the beach with their metal detectors.  It's a rather silly looking set up - the headset, the wand that undulates across the sand, the bucket that swings from a clip on the hip, hopeful. As a kid I envied it. I'm pretty sure I begged for one. The possibilities of buried treasure just too enchanting; the sexiness of pirate tales alluring before I had words to articulate the feeling. Damn, pirates are sexy. I'd follow these guys with my eyes as far as I could feeling my heart race anytime they stopped to dig a little. Hopeful. 

But now...

Is it cynicism or just acquired realism that has stolen the charm these metal men once offered? My heart no longer races; my eyes are more likely to follow the gulls path than than theirs. I certainly don't begrudge them their efforts, but I do wonder what drives them. What makes these men come out on these evenings, don their silly set ups, and scan the sand methodically and slow? Do they maintain the childhood hope I have lost along the way? If so, I admit I am envious. I would enjoy a little hope like this again.