Sandystone

Evie loves Sandystone; its where she's gone to celebrate anything of importance since she was little. But Evie is going away to Spain and she's at Sandystone for the last time, for a very long time.

Just a small story to start me off onto the site!

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3. Spain is nice but Wales is better.

 

The next morning we awoke to the same glorious weather as the day before, the sunlight streaming in through everyone’s windows, welcoming and softly caressing.
The smell of bacon was wafting around the little house and was even quite strong up in the small loft room where Lily, Seren and I slept on futon beds.
The three of us dressed, not bothering to battle anyone else for the use of the single shower and met in the kitchen.
There, we found mounds of bacon and iced jugs of fresh orange juice.
We all ate quickly and while Seren and I were loading the dishwasher, mum and Lily came through the kitchen door, ladled with brightly wrapped gifts.
“Happy birthday slash leaving do!” Mum sing-songed.
Altogether, I received a new camera from my parents to take to Spain, a beautiful sundress from Lily, a pair of expensive sunglasses from aunt Eleanor, uncle James and the boys, a tie-dye top and travel journal from aunt Rhian and Seren and an intricate golden locket from nan and bampi.
I had little time to admire my gifts though, as the packing frenzy had begun.
We had hardly unpacked anything the day before however, so the process didn’t take as long as usual and then we were gathered on the patch of grass outside the house, bamp locking the door and nan straightening the collection of sea shells on the windowsills.
“Hey, how about a family picture?” I suggested, gesturing to the new camera, dangling from my neck. “Definitely!” aunt Rhian gasped.
She was a great lover of photos.
Everyone gathered at the top of the pebble slope, the beach and sea behind us.
We balanced the camera on the windowsill of the chalet and set the timer.
The adults and Jason stood behind and the kids knelt down in front.
Twelve sets of happy eyes and twelve large grins, all telling the story of our great weekend and all forever captured on my camera.
When everyone has scattered again, I took a snap of the beach and then the house, mementos to take away with me to Spain.
Maybe if I looked at them whenever a celebration was taking place at Sandystone whilst I was away, I could almost feel as if was there too.
We said our goodbyes then and I clung onto every single person for much longer than I normally would, for luck.
Then we walked the short distance to the car park, that offered spaces for the five beach houses that sat along the quiet piece of coast.
I got into the back seat and craned my neck around to have one last fleeting glance of the house and the magnificent beach in its background.
I grinned.
Last night as I had snuggled into my fleece blanket, surrounded by the soft snores of Seren and Lily and watching the late night’s sky through the slanted loft window, I had decided something.
I had decided that I shouldn’t mourn leaving Sandystone, or Wales for that matter.
I should celebrate the new chapter of my life in Spain and celebrate my memories of Sandystone.
I should celebrate that when I returned to my beautiful, picturesque Wales, I would have a whole new collection of memories to share with my family around the bonfire.  

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