Recently, I went down to the estuary - to find the old boat wrecks that had been easing into oblivion undisturbed, have recently been stripped of all of their metal. A ruthless bounty hunter had hauled the bloomed bolts and rusted fishes for cash - now lost for all time. I resent it, someone removing what the sea should have eventually claimed on its own. I have not been down to the actual beach since I became ill in 2012. The last time I visited it was to take photos of the fresh water icicles that hung like crystal castle steeples - encasing the seaweed locks of a green Rapunzel. I want to revisit now I am well again, but I see the wharf cluttered with ugly scaffold rails, metal gates and with unfamiliar boats permanently moored to it and I leave again.
Once, I used to take the kids to play rounders by the caves, or bodyboarding on the shoreline. They have both grown up now and the truth is maybe I don't have an excuse for being there anymore. No reason to be walking - just me and the endless sand and sea. It will still be there tomorrow - yet another year passes. I prefer the autumn, that much is true - but I want to scoop the rest of the summer up in my hands and watch the pale sand trickle through. I want to frame the water with my fingers, before it changes from curling blue to darkened slate and the autumn skies stake their claim once more.
Before another year goes by..