Bronte is a small beach but one of my favourites. My friend David lives one street back from the beach and has a fantastic view over the ocean.
Bronte is set between sandstone headlands and it’s the perfect place to relax. It has everything a beach needs to have: water, sand and sun.
David’s not too well at the moment and has to go into hospital on Thursday. I’m worried. We spent an hour or so together and before going back to work I decide to escape the agitated, spur-of-the-moment, world and spend some leisurely time watching the waves beat upon the sand.
Like life when the slope gets too steep breaking is inevitable and that’s how it is with waves. They spill, they roll, they plunge, they dump, they surge and then they collapse into a white salty foam which runs up the beach grabbing at the feet of the swimmers.
I fix my eyes on a large wave out the back and follow it to the shore. I’m at the edge of a massive global interconnected body of salt water. The world and life is so incredible yet so easy to take for granted.
I pick up a shell to take a little part of Bronte home with me. As I’m blogging this post I have the shell to my ear and wonder how can this be? I can hear the ocean inside the shell.
Perhaps it proves that whatever comes and goes in our world fond memories will always be a whisper in the seashells of our mind. You just need to take the time to listen.