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The Shore

With a nostalgic inhalation of seaweed and a gentle hand clasp of tiny winkle shells, Leah mindfully glanced the length and breadth of the long and meandering promenade. Skipper predictably zig-zagged at speed up and down the beach stopping only to touch noses with other bright and friendly dogs; occasionally dipping his ginger feathered toes into the frothy puddles as the rolling waves slowly retreated back towards the depths of the Irish Sea.

Novice paddle boarders, bright white sails, and distant cumulus clouds suddenly filled Leah’s gaze; a present moment and a brief distraction from her deep and faraway thoughts.

Blissfully squinting her eyes Leah suddenly revisited tender memories of salty sea splashes, the shrieking yells of evening seagulls, and the thrill and the chill of cold-water swimming.

Walking away from her bustling life in the city hadn’t been an easy decision for Leah to make; leaving behind good friends, a growing garden, and a respectful and rewarding job with future prospects had filled her mind with hours of riddled thinking.

But number nineteen was now her main focus: a fresh garden project; the unknown new neighbours that she had yet to meet, and an inviting coastal neighbourhood that she now longed to parade and ponder about.

Tipping her head down towards the glowing evening sunshine, and snuggling her pink painted toes into the warm and silky sand, Leah felt happy.  

“Skipper!”

Words and illustration: Jane Griffiths-Jones – June 2021

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