Delicious Deja-Vu: Seeing Your Childhood Relived in Your Children
I arrived back to these golden shores in October yet still felt the pull of the beach, so this time I piled my 16-month old daughter, my dad, my husband and myself in our slightly worn jalopy and hit the windy road over the mountains where it boisterously revealed itself to me; my prized beach, my haven, my utopia.
The greatest gift my old friend bestowed upon me was when I saw it open up its arms to my daughter and invite her to run along its shore and squeal with delight in its surf. She was transfixed by the waves and screamed greetings out to the crests of the waves and roared when they crashed down near her feet. She had no fear of a friend I been unable to see in such a long time, she invited him to play and used her tiny bright orange shovel to patch up the holes other people had dug. I guess she has a sweeter soul then I, instead of digging she realized the importance of repairing and made it her duty for the next three hours to see to as much repair as she could.
Then the sun warned us of its imminent departure and we all waved farewell to the sand and sea, loaded everything in the car taking a good kilo of sand with us and then both she and I promptly fall asleep on the windy road over the mountains back home. At some point we woke up, I unstuck her from her vinyl car seat and we followed our noses to a heaping and tantalizing plate of pasta and a jovial family dinner recounting just how many holes we had repaired, how many waves had crashed never to be seen again and how some things never change, instead they just get better with time and the new people you get to share them with.
Published by Caz
A successful independent writer and media professional. I have spent the last 14 years in Europe, Africa, Middle East and Asia expanding my knowledge of European and Asian languages, law and politics in both... View profile
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6 Comments
Post a CommentPelvan
Don't worry mate I hear your pain. I did 10 hard years in the UK... Stony beaches are just a cruel aspect of nature...
J'espère que tout va bien, je n'ai pas bien compris ton message !! BIzz Christiane
I remember those days in Santa Cruz. We would sit in the very back of the Volvo and look back at the cars schelping behind.
A wonderful article, but Kapra is going to tell you how it is to be born and brought up in the Middle of the Jolly England. Caz you mention, Gold sand, Sunshine and Ocean, I am afraid none of this is available where I was born and brought up, instead we had to put up with the brown sand which at that time was the same colour as the water. As for the Sunshine we had none, it was grey skies to match the lovely brown sand & water. Having sustained 19 years in this harsh environment and ruggied terrain made me a strong person being able to tolerate anything that life threw in front of me. Now I believe its time for my son to experience what I experienced so he to becomes a True Pelvan like myself.
Well Mrs I must say...a truely romantic and idealistic dream that I would certainly swap for the dusty..soot filled POT HOLE that is LAHORE.
One is swept away in the moment and as its personal and a sure thing experienced... the moment is refreshed and encapsulated so throughly that indeed 'tis woz a magical time if one just stepped back and enjoyed the serenity of the moment.
Well written... certainly captures the imagination...and proves that history repeats itself although in a weird manner i WOULD SAY exactly as before but updated with consideration to time and space.
Excellent..maybe we could work together? 70-30!
how very poetic this article is, who is the author by the way?? the imagery used and 'scene' setting takes me back to great personal recollections of the natural beauty that is the sand and the sea.
Do you believe the onrushing waves, that filter the sand at the conclusion of every tide, and create a fresh new bay everytime are almost symbolic of a new generation inheriting the beauties that lay before them. I hope your daughter continues to enjoy this delight of nature and one day also passes on to children of her own, maybe even a boy who can also take advantage of those surfettes you mentioned :)