Our 10 day holiday in Italy already seems far away now, although it is only about four weeks that we returned. But so much has happened since then (basically: so many boxes happened) that it feels like an old memory.
(For those who have read my post about holiday weather: The weather was NOT what you would call brilliant. It was changing a lot and we were constantly in and our of our raincoats. But, surprisingly, we still enjoyed ourselves a lot. With me occasionally muttering sentences like “ok, does it have to rain every single day at one point? what about one day with dry weather from morning to evening?” The boys did not seem to mind a lot though. And husband has this mantra of not letting any kind of weather influence his mood. Lucky guy.)
But there are things that keep reminding me of this 10 days: Like the box with sea shells and round stones we collected at the beach one evening. It had been a day with a wet start that ended sunny. Late afternoon we drove for almost an hour to a special place I had read about. It was some sort of nature reserve and it was almost deserted. One more car at the parking lot, but no people in sight. The mountains (where we came from) were in clouds (again), but the sea was deeply blue with the last rays of sun shining on it. The footpath to the beach lead through a field (oat?) which in the light of the evening sun was of an eerie kind of green. We were walking on a sort of cliff, so we could not see the beach yet. For our eyes the field ended directly in the sea. Then we found a flight of stairs winding down to the beach, consisting of partly sand, partly round stones. Standing there, the sun seemed just out of reach, dancing on the waves, leaving the stones in the shadows.
The boys collected sea shells, Little One found a big round stone he fell in love with, plus a rectangular piece of wood he also adored. He insisted he needed to take both home – meaning home home, not holiday home, meaning carrying it in our luggage. I had my doubts about the weight, but promised we would try. His heart seemed to depend on it.
Now we have the shells, the round stone, the piece of wood. And of course all of them are lying around.
While packing some boxes with Older One’s things, I found a box with shells (really pretty ones, I have to admit), from our holiday in Portugal, three years ago. They have been collecting dust ever since (ok, they were in a box, but you get it). And then I had an idea. In one corner of our garden (at the new house) there are some large white stones, put there by the previous owner. What about decorating the old and the new shells, plus the round stone and the rectangular piece of wood, around and in between those stones? It could be pretty. I t could be a way of making something nice with the shells, instead of them only occupying space in a cupboard. It could be a way of remembering our funny holidays, full of expected things.
And I could print out a picture of the blue sea with the green fields and hang it in our study. To not forget the beauty of that evening.