I Must Go Down To The Sea Again

I need to save my sanity

I used to live by the sea.  What a great joy it was on a perfect summer morning, to creep out of the front door early, wearing my husband’s big robe and whilst the children were asleep, and barefoot, walk the short distance on to the beach, towel under my arm.

Then to gaze around at the empty beach in the early morning sunshine and the calm, almost silent sea, waves gently lapping, inviting me in.

The first tentative steps towards the glittering expanse of perfect blue and I’m in the water, the shock of the cold making me gasp. I start swimming and it is glorious.  

Back home, children miraculously still asleep, I shower, dress and make coffee.  It is just a magical morning.

I’m remembering this from my wheelchair.  It is not a dream, it really happened. Before.  

The memory brings both pleasure and pain. I know it has turned into a dream. Another thing I know – I must go down to the sea again