We discovered this place not too long before the pandemic and I loved to visit with my family, my kids. I’d hold their hands as we walked down and again as we walked back up the steep slope and the many, many steps. Bribing them with chocolate and treats to make it all the way back up. These days, if I could even get down there, I’d never make it back up.
And when we used to go, I used to breathe so deeply and I feel so at peace, watching the waves crash in and out, in and out. Hearing my children laugh and play, paddling in the shallows. I looked forward to so many years of visiting this place. The children growing older so I could share with them the joys, jumping off the rocks into the sea. Learning to climb and swim and kayak, taking them coasteering. Just experiencing everything that the coast has to offer.
They can still do all of these things, and I hope that they do. I hope they love every moment, every jump, every splash, every wave and I hope somehow that I get to witness it. I hope that one day, maybe I can join in again, before they’re too grown up.
It’s such a special magical place, that I had hoped we would share for years together, that would be part of our family’s story and that they would one day bring their children too. I feel like I’m missing out on a huge chunk of that story.
I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back. But if I do, I’ll sit and hear the waves crash, feel the sun on my face and the warmth of the rock underneath me, and I’ll feel at peace again.
