The waves tickle my toes as I gaze up at the white, fluffy clouds. A seagull squakes down at me, and I smile. Home. The little white house in the ocean town, the tall grass that lines all of the paths, and the warm sand that makes it feel as if you are walking in the sky. I could stand here forever, just wiggling my toes in the water, but Mum was expecting me for lunch. Reluctently, I stepped away from the oncoming wave and make my way up the sandy path. I can see my jeans swinging from the clothesline, and as I drew closer, the shape of my mum moving around in the kitchen. Sophia, our dog, bounded up to me from where she was dozing on the step, and I reached down and patted her. Then the calmness is shattered by the sound of breaking glass.
"Mum?" I called, walking quickly inside. "Mum, are you-"
I peer through the kitchen doorway to see my mum kneeling on the floor, picking up the shards of a teacup, looking flustered. When she saw me, she started to get up.
"Don'y come in, Jenny! I don't want you to cut yourself."
"Mum, your hand!" I said. She looked down.
"Oh, yes, don't worry, it's just a scratch." She looked at my sandy feet. "Did you wipe your feet before you came in here?"
"Here." Mum said, throwing a cloth at me. "Get cracking.
I wiped up the sandy footprints, Sophia trailing behind me. Even though the glass was cleaned and Mum's cut was tended to, the afternoon was ruined, shattered like the teacup. All that it had taken, was a shakey hand.
Yes, I know, it's really quite random. I don't even remember when I wrote it. Or why, for that matter. I think it's going to be part of a bunch of short stories involving the sea. Or the ocean. Or a lake.