A Sense of Being
There are many ways that one can define home, but to me it doesn’t denote bricks and mortar. To me, home is any place, or person, that gives you a sense of being… well, home.
And this is such a place.
The scent of newly cut grass floats on the air from the nearby golf course, overlaid by the tang of brine.
Overhead, the skylark trills his merry tune, accompanied by the caw of a crow and the distant call of gull, oystercatcher and curlew.
A gentle breeze rustles through the marram grass and sets the rosebay willow-herb to a gentle sway. The ripened heads burst, scattering an explosion of white fluffy seed heads that float through the air like snow on a warm summer day.
Butterflies, bees and beetles flit from flower to flower. A vast array of colourful shades; pink and yellow, blue and red, against a backdrop of green. Spotted orchids, birds-foot trefoil, periwinkle, cornflowers and poppies. Look there, very carefully, you may see the cinnabar moth caterpillars congregate on ragwort in their black and yellow jackets. And see the web nest of the peacock butterfly amongst the nettles as the larvae burst forth to feast upon the leaves.
Everything here is so alive. The peaceful energy fills a tired soul and gives it strength to carry on. I close my eyes and smile, feeling one with the nature around me. Tranquil. Fulfilled.
I take my husband’s hand, his calloused fingertips embracing mine. I slip my sandals from my feet revelling in the scrunch of sand between my toes.
The tide is out. Our dog bounds around us in joyful abandon, chivvying us towards the waters edge where she plunges into the gently rolling waves.
For a little while we walk in a comfortable silence, taking in the gentle shush of waves against the sand and the eerie moans of grey seal on a distant shore.
I am content. I am with the man I love, in a place that satisfies my heart. I am home.