Have you ever felt as though you miss a place. I mean really yearn for it. The view, the breeze, the smell of the air and sounds of grass waving or sea breaking.
I’m yearning for a place. I always thought in my dreams when standing on a rugged coastline in a long dress and cardigan I was somewhere abroad looking out at the sea.
As odd as it may be, I’m yearning for Easington Beach. I love seeing the electrical station, all lit up at night. The deers eating grass near the beaches, the grey and brown seals jumping in the waves, the pebbled beach, rugged sandy cliff edges, the static caravans, purple skies and sounds of waves, constantly crashing. I even love the sound of the rain there. Beating down on a static caravan while your inside watching the sea and keeping warm.
I always thought my rugged beach was Cabo de Gata. But I wouldn’t see those same things. Hear those same things. In my older years I want warmth by a fire and a beautiful green scene from one window and a rugged coastline from the next.
I may drive to Easington and just sit by the beach for the day. Watching ladies catch mussels and fishermen fight off the seals. See how I feel. Maybe, look for lodgings. Find a home.
Stop Walking on Egg Shells 