Tag: holiday

52. So this love I had, where does it go?

I don’t think that I have ever had my name written on the sand. I remember the giant ‘SOS’ that marked the expanse of beach on a winter’s day in North Wales. I didn’t really need rescuing, but it was awfully cold. But the initials in the sand, made with all the little white pebbles that the writer, or writers, had searched the shore line for to make sure that lots of matching ones could be found, those initials and the heart and the date – they made my own heart skip.

It’s a beautiful thing to be in love. The overwhelming, all consuming feeling that you need nothing else in the world, that you’ll breath in as they breath out and that will sustain you. It’s as important as leaving your heartfelt message on the sand. And just as fleeting.

So this love I had, where does it go when the waves have been and gone?

I still feel it at moments. Not the intense new love, but the one that cares, that smiles, that would bring tea and toast. And somehow that’s the feeling I miss most. Those small touches that you share and do for each other. Funny things to share, understandings of each other that don’t need explaining.

The thought of trying to build those again seems a swim too far at the moment. But who knows.

I’ve been away for a week. Very lucky me, I know. And I spent most of it sitting on beaches watching the sea come in and out. It’s like breathing, and gradually it made me realise that I hadn’t been breathing properly for quite some time. Being warm, in the sun, with nothing to do and no need to do it, made me stop. No work to organise, plans to make, shopping to do, dog to walk. Read a book, don’t read a book – no one minds either way. And it was wonderful. Because rather than thinking – about me, him, my future, our past – I stared at the sea.

Past holidays came into my mind, but not for long, and not to cause pain. Future walks on the beach were considered, but they will come and who knows what they’ll look like. I’ve strolled along many sandy coves, laughed with good friends while paddling in the sea, and watched many many waves.

Nothing lasts on the sand. And that’s the way it will always be.

 

51. Together but separate.

I have the absolute treat of having 3 seats to myself on a flight to Portugal. I knew I’d got the window seat when I checked in but this is a huge bonus. My travelling companion has her window seat across the isle so we’re both happy. Together but separate. Or is that separate but together. I wonder at the difference.

This is my new life. I’ve taken the chance of a cheap break. Fly out with one friend, joined by another in a couple of days, friend one flies home, friend two stays until we do our separate but together flights home. This way I get a happy medium, the too-ing and fro-ing has a ‘just popping in’ feel to it. I’m the constant. Company is good. But I’m strangely not ready to go on holiday with someone else yet.

I’m off to stay in the father-in-law’s flat he has in The Algarve. Purchased last year with no sense of irony despite having voted for Brexit. His politics aside he is a kind man, has been a source of support in so many ways over the past months, and I am often grateful for his presence downstairs. His was the heart we broke most with our news, but he has seen us start to build our new way of being and I know it helps him too.

So off I go. And I am excited. Packing was fun. I bought myself a treat of new headphones at the airport. Friend one and I tested enough perfumes to gas the plane. I’m loving the luxury of stretching out on my triple seat.

And I have my list of places that my once partner now no longer together recommends when he came to stay in February. He came to escape, to be somewhere other. He phoned last night. To hope I have a great time and to give me tips of things that he thought I’d like. A great market on Tuesday, a lovely restaurant that’s a bit hidden away, the best bit of the beach, away from people as much as possible – other people are my least favourite things when I’m away. Because he knows me well. And was a lovely thing to do. Those holidays when we take it in turns to choose the things we’d like to do, discovering hidden gems together off the beaten track, quirky places to make the exploring so worthwhile, they are all behind us. Our separate adventures stretch before us.

And it make me feel just a tiny bit sad. But a bit sad with a good tan isn’t a bad way to be.