the beach.

I should start off by saying that I very rarely feel homesick anymore.
This is so easily and naturally turning into home for us.

You could say it's taken me awhile.  But if you really know me, then you know that it has actually gone rather quickly.
It helps that this place is lovely, and the people are charming, and I love what I do.

But Saturday it felt as though I took two steps back.  First of all, because the journal prompt I was working on asked me to write about summer.  "What summer?" I asked the journal prompt with sarcasm and scorn.  So I wrote about my favorite summers...the ones I remember from my youth.  The second step was when we bundled up to go to the beach.  Don't get me wrong.  The beach is beautiful.  And lovely.  And I am so lucky to see it everyday.
But.

There's always a "but" isn't there?

Going to the beach means something different to us than it did a year ago.
It used to mean throwing on your swimsuit and sunscreen.
It used to mean soft sandy beaches with beach towels and umbrellas.
Laughing in the sun and lounging on beach chairs.
It used to mean time with family and jumping in waves.

Now it often means throwing on a stocking hat and coat.
It means hard stony beaches with lots of rocks to throw.
It means bracing ourselves against the wind and sometimes rain.
It means going there by ourselves.  With no family other than ourselves.

I still love the beach.  I still love the sea, and seeing Scotland off to my right isn't so bad..

But there are days I miss our old beach. 
with the blankets.
and snacks.
and even the giant sand-dunes I never climbed up.

I'm allowed that, right?