I listen to the sound of the sea in the high and windy trees, my soul stretched up like a kite on a string where the buzzard mews . The  trees sough, leaves transmit and in my mind’s eye I see waves breaking on the beach. I am wrapped in sea memories, rocked by sea breezes, cold, damp, salt-sticky skin and tangled hair: always me, always the sea calling irresistibly.

It is a short drive to the beach at Tide Mills and I make it in about half an hour.There is barely anyone here and the waves are thrumming. The spray is whacking over the harbour wall in gusts but here on the beach it is more measured. There’s a rhythm to the sound of the pebbles lifted and pulled by the waters suck and drag. Froth, white like wedding icing wraps round my ankles. It is actually almost warm. I am the power today. There is only me, shin-deep in the courting waves, only me and my wild human heart.

Then I see it, a single opaque glass teardrop among the pebbles: a gift for me from the sea.

Notes:
I lost my wedding ring on a beach in Crete. My hands got so cold the sea slipped my ring off my finger and took it away. It was a wide band of rose gold and belonged to Eva, my paternal grandmother before me. Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever found it, but I will never know.