It's been three years since we last holidayed in Cornwall.
October 2009, we borrowed a friend's daughter and took six children to a caravan in Northern Cornwall.
Our hearts were so broken then, just three months out from Florence's birth. I was still carrying her with me, could still feel the weight of her on my left shoulder. I don't feel that anymore.
That was the first time we visited Trebarwith Strand 

We headed straight back there on Tuesday morning.
There are some places that just have an overwhelming sense of calm. This is one of them.
Standing on the sand after picking our way across the rocks and being buffeted by the cold wind, there was simply a warmth, a pretective hug from the coastline.
I felt tears stinging my eyes. I felt like I was returning to a place I'd taken Florence, I could almost feel the weight of her again. Of course she never really went there.
Yesterday, the last day of our short holiday we went back.
Ernest had fallen asleep in the car, it was stormy and dark, lashing rain and wind, but the older children and I decided to brave the beach once more.

The skies cleared, the sun shone, the sea was wild, and bright green, still warm the sea turned to mist as each wave crashed onto the sand, and met the cold November air.
Again I felt that familiar warmth, and for a moment I closed my eyes, let the sun warm my face, while the wind also blew, and I could hear the crashing of the sea.
Again I felt the tears stinging my eyes, and I whispered a little "hello" to my Florence, and a "Goodbye" to the sea.