In mourning for the sea.

I'm home. Early. It was wet in Cornwall. I had a lovely time but Husband decided enough was enough. I'm sad. Sad because time with the children is so precious and two weeks by the sea once a year isn't much time out of our lives but we managed less than 9 days. Tall Girl will be 12 this autumn. She may not have more than 4 more summer holidays with us (I got fed up with holidaying with my parents when I was 16, though I hope she still will want to come away with us for years to come yet).

We had 3 days on the beach. Small Sprog did body boarding for the first time and loved it! He shrieked at the top of his voice for joy on the crest of every wave! Tall Girl enjoyed it in an altogether quieter way but was happy all the same.

We managed to walk a lot. Often in thick mist! Cornwall is renowned for it's sea mists. Someone stole the cows from the bottom of the garden, not just the cows but the whole hill behind the cottage too and the distant sea view. The mist was so thick at one point it was like something out of a Steven King movie. We were just alone in the world, or so it seemed!

But Husband got fed up being damp and Tall Girl said there was more to do at home in the rain and here we are. Home. Back to the suburban sprawl. I'm not ready for this. I needed more time. More time to hear the silence of the countryside, the wind on the cliff tops and the endless crashing of the waves on the sand. I needed more thinking time, away from the mundane chores that haunt my world. I needed precious moments, still need, I feel bereft.