Waves

A friend just wrote, grief comes in waves. Its true. For no obvious reason mum’s loss has knocked me off my feet the last few weeks. Reminding me of times on Southwold beach when I would slip as I was climbing back to shore and find myself face down in the pebbles and crashing spray feeling the suck of the wave back into the sea.

I miss that beach now. Just as I miss being with Mum there swimming and drying off in Naomi’s beach hut.

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I climbed back out then. I climb back out now.

This week is the end of an American Era in our lives. My son’s last time in Middle School. Goodbye Canyon Vista.

Feels sad to say goodbye to another school and another set of teachers , even though, since its only 5 mins drive away, I will still see it. Unlike Crickhowell High School, Llangattock Primary, Reydon Primary or Sunningwell Primary which are all 4000 miles away.

This thought brings another wave. A wave of home sickness. Thoughts of popping in to buy Chelsea buns from Askews Bakery while I waited to meet my kids from Crickhowell High School, in Powys, Wales.

Of Caera on her first day at Crickhowell in her school uniform. How I hated the morning scramble for ties but kind of miss the freedom not having to check each outfit daily.IMG_2607

Thoughts of the final outing to the park on my son’s last day at Llangattock Primary, across the river from Crickhowell, where he and his friends lay on the grass before they joined in the traditional water fight and I reflected with the other parents on just how quickly they grew.

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Thoughts of picking up the kids from Reydon Primary on a Friday and going into Southwold for Ice Cream as a weekly treat if they had been good and walking up to sit on the cannons on the cliff just as I did as a child.

Thoughts to the short walk back home from school over the cricket ground in Sunningwell with Dougal trotting beside. Thoughts of Shaw aged 4 on his ever first day at Sunningwell Primary School. Now nearly ten years later he is leaving the fifth school he has attended. So many places and people we have left behind.

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Its hot and the pool beckons. They say it will be nearly a 100 F (37C) today. I shall dive in and make my own wave and wash away the other waves.

The water in the pool this morning is crystal clear and the birds dart overhead as the sun gilds patches of leaves in the wood beyond the fence. I sip my coffee and stroke freshly shorn Dougal. I am propelled back to the present. I never thought I would live somewhere as awesome as this and as my husband places warm croissants in front of me I feel a wave of content and joy.

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