A short story: The Bay

The small, rippling waves eventually came to shore, clear and cool, fizzing and bubbling as they wash around her feet. Her wrinkled face smiles in delight, bronzed by the sun, weathered by the many years that have passed; she is still beautiful.

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Her eyes sharp and clear, like the Gull standing beside her. Neither has moved, standing like sentinels on the sandy, shell scattered shore. Both are taking in the clear morning air. Not a ripple mars the perfection of the bay, as smooth as the treasured mirror that hangs in her modest cottage on the cliffs above.

It is still early; they have been standing, in perfect solitude, since just before dawn, both lost in thought.

Dawn comes in casting aside the last white wisps of pale sea mist. Slowly the dawn sky changes from grey to mauve, pale pink, and then the rich red pink that heralds a new day. From behind the island in the centre of the bay, the sun rises, a glorious golden ball of colour, blinding, in its sudden appearance. The woman and the gull have together witnessed the start of another day, a miracle of summer.

The sound of a dog barking and children’s laughter fill the air, the gull takes flight.

The woman smiles and turns to greet her family. There is breakfast ready for them in the cottage but they hurry to the beach as they know she will be there. She has been greeting the day in that exact spot, as her mother, and grandmother before her.

As they walk toward the cottage the woman stops, her family hurry ahead of her, she turns and with a contented smile and looks out over the bay.