It was a brilliant day to walk on the beach. This girl couldn’t ask for more. She had a brightly shining sun, a brisk and chilly sea-wind and the company of a dashing young man, an old friend.

It was the perfect escape – as it always had been.

As we made our way closer to the water, he talked of his experiences here on the coast, his recent adventures living and surfing in the area. And I thought of the thousand memories associated with this sand and water, and of the surrounding neighborhood. My own memories.

How many times had I come here for healing? To rest my soul and fill my heart?

He grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers, and shortly after, tucked our clasped hands into the pocket of his wool coat. I smiled at him indulgently, but also knowing that I could never express how much this small gesture spoke an overwhelming kindness to my heart.

I felt warmed through. I felt at home. Even with the cold sand between my toes; or maybe I should say especially with it between my toes.

This is where I come to cut through the red tape and just deal with what is – and this time, I didn’t have to face it on my own.