The sea fret

Today there was the most amazing sea fret that lingered as we started the day surfing on polzeath beach. 
It wasn’t unpleasant, just cast a dullness over what what we knew to be wonderful bay in the sunshine. It didn’t stop us doing what we came to do…it just didn’t have the extra specialness, sparkliness to it..
As we came up out of the cove and above the cliffs, the bluest of skies greeted us and the warm sun beat the fret away. For the rest of the day, the sea sparkled, we built sandcastles, buried our bodies, ate ice creams, burnt our wintry pale skin to a crisp with big smiles on our faces. 
This evening, in a blink of an eye, as we sped up the estuary, wind in our hair, little did we know that the sea fret had crept up behind us… And as the boat swung round, the squeals of delight fell hush as we saw the mist rolling towards us in the distance. We kept it at bay for a good while, but the only way home was through it.  
The fret reminded me of grief. The ebbs and flows. Never knowing where it might be or when it may appear… In a dip or as you turn round. The fog that dulls all life experiences you know to be glorious… And just as quickly as it descends, you know it will lift… You just carry on without the extra specialness … Until it lifts.
And when it lifts, it feels all the extra special and sparkly. 

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