Through a child's eyes

I recently spent a long weekend at the beach I stayed at when I was little. It was so wonderful to revisit a place which has such strong, happy memories for me. But it reminded me of how untrustworthy memory is. I remembered the long walk to the shop. It is actually only 2 baches down the road. I remembered the walk over the hill to the next bay as being a huge tramp and Mum encouraging us to keep going so we could have a piece of chocolate at the end. It is actually only a 10 minute walk. But on little legs it would have been formidable. In my mind the surf was huge and the beach enormous. Don't get me started on how far I thought it was from home!

Now seeing it from a greater height and with the perspective or an adult stride suddenly it looks quite different. I am no longer fascinated by the corner store or the distance over the hill. But now I can see just how precious a bach holiday at the beach is and how beautiful and peaceful it is. I can see how the baches are becoming beach houses and life is changing so quickly. I now know how privileged I was to have those holidays and that my daughter's generation may not even know what I am talking about when I tell stories about my childhood when I am old, wrinkly and smell funny.