Sunday, December 29, 2013


The sky is unclouded, the sun burns bright. We slather on sunscreen, slap on hats, shirts, sunglasses, and make our way down to the shore.
The water is all the most perfect shades of blue and green, and with kids attached we wade into sun-gleaming water, avoiding the games of cricket on the beach, the boogie boarders in the water.
The Sprocket stays with his daddy and learns the finer art of body-surfing, the Poppet stays clamped to me, resting on 'the bump', her arms tight around my neck as we jump and float over the waves, the sea around us clear and run through with shifting slabs of light.
This is content. This is joy. I think this is what I've been looking forward to for all of my life - lolling in the ocean with my water-babies.
When the kids' lips turn blue we return to the sand and build a sandcastle, tunnelling beneath so our fingers meet. My Beloved runs back into the surf for a kid-free body-surf and my little ones and I chatter and build in the sun, the noise of the crowded beach surrounding us, sand quickly coating us.
My Beloved returns - it is my turn for the Ocean. I wade in with unalloyed happiness, diving under the first wave, swimming open eyed through clear green, watching the sun as its rays fall golden through the water, seaweed on the sand, the delicate changing colours. Rising to the surface I glide over a cresting wave, looking shoreward to see my wee ones playing in the sand with their daddy.
I float, held between sea and sky. Surf and laughter and children calling. Blue sky above and green water below.
"Hello my darling, hello Littlest. This is the ocean. As you float in me, I float in sea." I address the babe growing within, wondering if she can see glimmers of the brilliant Australian light, sense the fluid motion.
Another wave rolls in - I shoot up its face, twist in its arc and then flip down the back, float until the next set comes in. Dive under, float, glide.
This is happiness.
This is Ocean.