I have many memories of my aunt Sue.  The one I now share today is walking the Cornish coastal paths with her when I was a small girl.  She had taken me away for a holiday in the area surrounding Penzance.  The journey was by train, which to me back then being a little person, seemed a long but none the less terribly exciting adventure.  
 
Later, we had headed along the paths, she in cut off denim shorts, her hair slightly longer in a bob and that simple red apple pendant she often wore at her neck.  As we sauntered through the pale sea grass, I saw that her smile grew wider, her spirit freer.  And I believe that everything in the world shone a little bit brighter that day.  And then we reached the glorious waves; a sea, I think, that spoke of freedom to Sue.  Slate grey breakers dancing amongst bottle green and brilliant blue.  Wild waves.  Not for her a scene that was picture postcard charming, but big waves that thrashed against the dark rocks.  A sea that was utterly alive and spontaneous. 
 
This was her place.  Here she found a connection between soul and sea.  Just sitting on that rock, wave watching, made her utterly full of joy.  I will always cherish that moment Auntie Sue and I will miss you. I think it captures something of that connection we found together by the water that day.  
 
 
Sea Fever
BY JOHN MASEFIELD
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
 
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
 
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.