I will never ever forget the sound of the wind whipping by and the smell of the sea and the colder than expected air as we stepped out of the car; her raising one hand to pull the wind blown hair from her face only to have it blown back again.
On our trips to the coast I took my pleasure from her as she took hers from the bleak seascape, the cruel wind and the harsh cold. Sometimes the wind would blow her hair into my face and I would taste the salt of the seawater. We would laugh and then scurry back to the car and sip a warm drink before setting off home again. She would always be sleeping when we arrived and I would gently lift her and carry her into the house like a child.
“Have I been asleep?” she’d say. I would tell her “Yes” and we’d laugh.
Only once, I took her back to the coast the next day. The second day was fun but not magic. “Just because we know what is,” she told me, “it doesn’t mean it’s not magic.” I laughed because I thought she was joking but I was wrong. I was never wrong about that again.