It was strange sitting on that bench looking at sandcastles we hadn’t built, kites stretched to the sky with no need of our hands. It was strange seeing children in whirls of excitement for beach holidays, wild fairground rides waiting to induce the scream. It was all… so familiar.
It was strange all of that, was no longer you or I.
We sat quiet, serene smiles on faces looking out to sea. As if we’d arrived to watch a show, wondering where all the years had vanished. How had we become the still people? The ones slumped in deck chairs eating sandwiches, sipping lemonade with newspapers draped over heads, shading their pink English skin from the unexpected heat of the day. How their eyes had followed us, amused at what our little hands could do with a plastic bucket, a spade, and a heap of soggy sand.
We have discovered, no matter how hard we try to keep all we’ve known alive, change is always certain. Time ticks, and who we’ve become will continue to surprise.
We may be confused children, absent of Mum and Dad, empty of buckets and spades, with a lack of desire for castles made of sand, to cut the wind with a kite, get chills from awesome rides, or revel in artificial game score highs at the arcade. But at least we are still a brother and sister who laugh a lot, share a precious moment, and remind ourselves appearances lie….we are the same people we always were.
It’s all on inside, not the outside. And only we know the secret of how to find the real boy, the real girl.
Some of you may remember this story from a post I created in September 2013 called The Secret. It was a poem, with photos of a seaside town I visited in Lowestoft, Suffolk. I’ve not done a repost before, so I decided to rewrite this into short story style and record it.
If you’ve read too much today, you can sit back, be lazy, rest your eyes and listen to this one! The original post contains a lot more photographs of the day, a traditional British cream tea, and a beautiful surfing video filmed in Lowestoft. If you’d like to see it you can view it here.
Daughter Of Darkness ~ Katya Mills
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