Dear Jess,

There was a stillness that hadn’t been there the day before when the wind tore through the trees and buffeted the pram with such a force that we were propelled backwards.

Today the trees had fallen still and there wasn’t a person or cloud in sight. It was so still in fact that if it wasn’t for the soft, rhythmic lapping of the salt water on the sandy shore one could almost have believed that they were alone in the world.

There wasn’t another person in sight in that moment. Just me and my little passenger, who would on occasion remind me of her presence with a small coo or a throaty growl.

The ocean glittered invitingly, the cool water crystal clear as far as the eye could see. I pictured myself wading through the ankle high water, cradling my daughter Matilda in my arms, another beautiful memory of our time alone in the world together.

The stillness was broken by the sound of my feet as I began to jog along the path, pushing my gurgling baby snuggled warm and cosy in the running pram. Wishing a good morning to the people as they got closer enough, when once they were just specks dotted along the horizon.

My legs churned strong, one, two three four, one two three four, my breathing falling into an easy pattern in and out, in and out. A gaggle of seagulls argued and squawked their greedy disapproval at one another from the grassy banks as I ran by. My heart felt steady within my chest.

I thought of the changes to my life this path had witnessed. Moving here pregnant but not showing. The afternoon walks with my husband and our then three dogs, tennis balls, sticks and sandy, wet, happy dogs. The bbq along the beach front with family and friends where the lovely, oily sausages came back up in a hurry, due to that very same pregnancy. A much longed for morning walk along the waterfront on my first day of maternity leave, the sky so many shades of orange and gold; my heart light & expectant, my body weary. The first walk with the baby, not yet two weeks old and the many walks to come with her held close to me in a carrier as friendly locals marvelled over a tiny foot or little baby hand that poked out.

I thought about the runs done too soon after giving birth, but done none the less. Tears streaming down my cheeks, exhausted, touched out and desperate for normalcy. Runs that meant I could walk back into the house and pick up my brand new baby and continue for another day. Runs, walks and chats with my sister and brother, discussing all manner of things big and small, plans made and kept along that same waterfront path. Moments passed and moments still to come.

Today I ran strong, new plans swirling through my head and nervous flutters in my stomach.

Love Sally Xxo