by the ocean, the first time not the last.
Early on, I convinced you to come with me home. It was all so exciting and yet so new. I can't believe you said yes and came.
We spent two days by the sea. Two days of solitude, just getting to know each other. Feeling things out. I learned you were a master fire builder and that you collected rocks and shells for your mother's garden.
No electricity, only lanterns and fires and lots of blankets and quilts. Nights by the fireplace or down by the beach, roaring bonfire, drinking wine and nestling up together in the shelter of a beach rock.
Shopping at the general store in the small town, walking on the beach. Showing you my life, my childhood. You took a picture that is glorious and peaceful, the best I have seen from the front window. Sunny and warm, it breathes comfort.
I always thought we would take our children there. Show them my life, since they would see so much of their mother's. Spend a week there in the summer, swimming and catching fish, playing in the river, boiling mussels on the beach. Nothing but love and nature and family.
Just like I did when I was child.
Just like we did that summer.
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