This is the place

Woolleys Bay will always be a special place to me and my family. It's the place we learnt to swim, to row a boat, to catch a fish, to relax.

It's where we've spent hours damming creeks, only to have the high tide wash them away; where we've spent a whole summer painstakingly collecting shells, only to put them all back before we leave again; where we've read book after book and quietly suffered after getting a tan a bit faster than we'd hoped; where we've been entertained and horrified by the goings-on on the beach with vehicles getting stuck, boats getting flipped in the surf - I even remember a 'shark' call.

When you open the door to the bach, it has its own smell, its own character. It feels like an extension of my grandparents (who had the wisdom to build it, thereby creating a legacy for their children and their children's children...) - it's welcoming, practical, comfortable but slightly frugal, nurturing, solid.

I wonder if they knew what they were creating when they raised the walls all those years ago?