There was a long beach of shining sand reflecting a puffy little cloud and Grace running towards the water. There was a man and his little girl playing at the edge, his bright red shorts looking amazing against the blue of the sea and the sky. Grace was very excited to see another bubby but they were just about to leave. So we ran into the waves, up to Graces waist. She held my hand or wrapped herself around my legs, shreiking with delight as the waves crashed around her and then receded, the fine sand sucking under our feet. Then she ran aroung in the gleaming shallows, each drop of water falling in a sparkle. I wish I could have sneaked a couple of photos of this so I could see it forever but salt water, sand, cameras and energetic toddlers are not a good mix. And I'd rather have the moment anyway. So I'll show you a couple of photos from the beach, taken on other days and you can kind of get the idea.
To be honest, these pictures don't do this morning justice. Same beach, different light. Different every day, which is quite exciting really. I love this beach. It is so part of my memory of childhood, of holidays. Returning this time was a homecoming of sorts.
I've been trying to hold it all in my mind but already these images are being overwritten by the journey home, opshopping, bad takeaway and the smell of Melbourne traffic. I've more or less unpacked and am waiting for all my photos to download. And for pizza (well, I was but that's done and packed away). Tommorrow looks like being a big day of many loads of washing, and shopping, and catching up and getting my house in order. No doubt I will go on about our holiday a bit more. At least until the re-entry to home world is complete and it's like we were never gone.