I don’t know how to explain what the sea means to me, and I don’t expect you to understand, unless you share the same affliction. This unexplained yearning, this pull so strong that it literally makes you sick with longing. It can become unbearable at times, forcing me to escape into my imagination where I am always, inevitably, by the shore.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this mental picture of myself as an old lady, living in a little cottage by the sea, pottering in the kitchen, with the sound of shells, wind-chiming on the porch, mingling with the soothing lul of the waves.
From the first time we met at the age of three, I have never wanted to be anywhere else. Like a spoilt child I was never quite satisfied with the bush, or the mountains, or even the river. They could only ever be second best. It became like a drug to me. The more sea I got, the more I craved for another fix, more and longer every time.
Like old friends seperated by distance, the sea would patiently wait for my next visit, sometimes years. And then, just like good old friends, we picked up where we left of immediately, feeling as if we’ve never been apart.
All I have ever wanted to do for holidays, was to get to the sea and stay there. Sleeping with the comforting lullaby of the waves, waking up with a smile on my face. To be lazily watching my kids play in the shallow water from where I lie reading under my umbrella, only getting up to swim in the icy sea with my children. When hunger or thirst finally drives us home, we would walk up the boardwalk right to our borrowed door, and enjoy a meal on the patio, overlooking the waves.
Finding perfect places to vacation is quite a feat. You see, I am not satisfied with a house or apartment with “sea views”, or “within walking distance” of the beach. No, I want to be RIGHT ON the beach, with the waves lapping at our steps. Alluring pictures advertising one place must have been taken from the roof, on a ladder, cleverly omitting the awfull, noisy parking lot right in front of the house. One or two such mistakes made me obsessed with finding the right spot. Thanks to Google, I became adept at zooming in and locating the places that fulfilled all my requirements. Quiet but not isolated, with enough white sand to enable long walks on the beach.
It was through Google that I discovered this perfect little bay with gorgeous white houses, standing with their toes almost in the water, white sand stretching on either side. Here my husband finally started to share in my enthusiasm for beach living, and I started sowing the seeds that would slowly grow into a shared dream, to one day, own a beach house here.
Now at the age of 46, this dream is slowly becoming a reality. We found a perfect little piece of beachfront property, big enough to accommodate our boisterous family, with extra space for visiting friends and family. Like all good dreams, this will not happen overnight, and it will be a long-term project, but the blank canvas of sand and waves and views are patiently wating, with the promise of a dream come true. . .
Watch this space!
Our promising little piece of land
Photos by: Personal