"Papa's Beach" is what Mr Four calls our place, and although his cousin Miss Lily can't yet talk, she probably calls it that as well. The river runs clear, the beach sandy and clean and we think it is paradise.
The stairs are where I've sat over the past decade and watched a thousand sunsets, half as many sunrises, consumed three times that many cups of coffee, photographed all manner of birds and animals coming to visit. Often the water's ever changing moods were a foil to my own, and we'd sit and stare at each other, the river and I.
This month it comes to an end. The house in which all three of our daughters were married, the one that gave birth to at least a dozen boats and has overseen the arrival of a quarter as many grandchildren will pass into the hands of others in a few short weeks. It was bought you see, in a rash of Government impetuosity, a year ago when a faceless bureaucrat thought it would make a lovely place for a freeway, and although shortly after they thought it wouldn't, our new journey had already begun..
Their decision was irrevocable, our life had changed, we made plans for a future in a different place, and in a few short weeks from now we will be gone.
For those who have followed my daily blog, this story will be familiar. Shortly, Papa's Beach will be little more than another Fading Memory but one never the less, for which we will always be grateful.
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© Sunshine Coast Daily Photo - Australia