We emptied our house by the sea today in readiness for our student tenants. As I crammed our belongings into a small cupboard, I caught sight of a moth-eaten dragon that we’d won in an arcade. My son used to sleep with it every night during our holidays and he is 18 now.
I became acutely aware of the passage of time. We bought our little house, a former fisherman’s cottage, 12 years ago and have spent idyllic summer holidays there. I’m sure it must have rained at times, but when I look back, all I can remember is endless sunshine.
My children will have such fond memories of this place when they reach adulthood – although I guess the eldest has already done that, although at 18 he has many years to go before he reaches maturity.
The time has flown. It seems like only yesterday that our three were running around in sunhats, their chubby cheeks streaked with ice-cream begging us to make sand castles with them – I am a bad mother and got easily bored playing in the sand.
I made the most of my last swim in the sea of the season. The water was silky and warm and I soaked it all in so that I can relive the moment in my mind when the first frosts set in.
In other news, I have just read Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. It’s essentially about creativity and what I took away, was the notion that you should enjoy your creative pursuit rather than be a martyr to it.
I need to change my attitude to the book. Can I manage 500 words a day or joyous writing? I am going to buy a big jar and a bag of beads. Every time I pen 500 words a bead will go in the jar then I will have a constant visual reminder of my progress.
I am so totally in love with writing fiction.