The smell of the sea. And finding peace in the sand.

Home is a happy place for me. But there are other places in this world that are happy places for me too. Today I visited one and now my home is at peace.

Craig has always loved the beach. He lived at the end of a road to the beach growing up and would love to spend more time there given the chance. He wants a new surfboard for Christmas this year and wants to get ones for the older kids to use too. It makes me smile to think about it, sharing his love of the ocean.

For me, I have always liked the beach, but I saw it as work. I needed the perfect swimsuit, a bag packed with all the necessities, and it would always be this big thing. A big exhausting thing. I would enjoy myself, but it wasn't an experience I would consider relaxing. That was until a few years ago.

I don't exactly remember when it happened. But it changed something in me that I am grateful for. It gave me a peaceful happy place, that can change my mood and outlook in a moment.

It was late one afternoon. The responsible parent thing to do would have been to get a few jobs done, as the children played, so that everything ran towards an appropriate bedtime. But I was over it. I wanted out. I wanted a life, not just a series of days that ran into one another, in a line forever. One definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. Something had to change. So I did. I told Craig we were going to the beach. He started organising. And I said "No. Now." We went out to the car, just as we were. No sunscreen, some with no shoes, and no towels or spare clothes. Just us. Just us and the ocean. Not a care in the world!

And it was wonderful. Wonderful.

We have continued to do this countless times since. One of us will say 'beach' and it will be a race to the front door, 3 traffic lights and about 10 minutes to the smell of the sea. There is always sand in the carpet of the car and in child seats. There are always buckets of shells-that-are-treasures hanging around the laundry. Take away food, fast dinners, and late bedtimes often are a result. But I just don't care. What I love is that I learnt, and continue to learn, that some things don't need to be as hard as I make them. Sometimes simple is enough. All the stuff really isn't necessary. Wet clothes and a 10 minute journey home waiting for a warm shower is not the end of the world, and I now know there are so many other things that this applies to as well.

Today I ventured out alone with all five children to the beach. There was no reason in particular. Nothing is going wrong right now. I just needed to play and be with them, with nothing else. I'm sure some people would think I'm slightly crazy! But I needed to be there. In fact I really just needed to be. To be and to breathe.

The beach is now a place where my cares drift away with the tide. I smile. I really smile. Not the pretend this-is-going-to-be-a-great-day-because-I-will-make-it-great smile; a genuine one that has nothing hiding behind it. No worries, no washing, no 700 unfinished jobs or concerns that swirl around constantly in the background. Peace. My heart is lifted and I feel my dreams for the future soar, unending. Hope. All things are in fact possible, and more. I see my children boundry-less and without limitations as I did when they were younger, in the before; before school came and took that away. I see them laugh and chase and explore, truly happy together, in a place where disagreements could never be. The excitement that is as clear as day, as a new discovery is shared. The joining together and the simply being. Existing in the moment, as the waves wash over my feet, taking away all that needs to fade, to move on to more.

It's just water and sand. Simple really. Oh for the simplicity to invade and take over the all and the everything of my life! The clarity that comes is both gentle and confronting all at once. And the calm leaves a lasting, thoughtful trace on the hours and days that follow.

Coming home, in the silence that is always present as we leave, we individually contemplate. Alone in our own thoughts, yet together. I breathe. Just breathe. Happy to have come and gone and be travelling home with hope clinging, just as the sand on my feet. Home to a place that I again see full of only possibilities, hope beyond measure, and peace.

It's only water and sand. Water and sand.

And happy.

And peace.

And hope.

Jen.x