The ink in the sky seems slowly sucked back out into the galaxy as we drive. Following the lines of the road like white rivers as Cake plays. Engines pumping and thumping in time. Singing loudly as the world around us seems all asleep. We arrive before even the surfers are out, the air crisp and my nose cold. Walking through banksia lined sand paths to come out at the beach, barely making out the shapes of leaves and limbs as we move past. We sit watching the sun as she moves up slowly from behind the sea and I dig my feet into cool sand. Here we are. Home. The day turned out so perfectly and it’s not yet 6 am.
I was just here the other day, laying right under that yellow area, my toddler daughter piling sand onto my legs with my belly large with her baby brother. Now I open my eyes and it’s 4 years later and that chubby little girl is gone, replaced by this little lady, and a different brother altogether.
Isn’t it lovely when you get to experience things through the eyes of someone else?
Taking in their first reactions, trying to read their thoughts. He puts his head down into the spray and then up again, perplexed. Then once again just to be sure. I watch and for a moment I am lost in his world – where sensation and understanding are blurred as he tries to build his perception each new experience.