Dear Beach

Lovely, lovely beach. It was good to see you today in the glorious low winter sunshine, with clouds reflected on the seemingly blue, shiny wet sand.
I'm sorry I've neglected you.
This is an incredibly difficult time of year for many people for many reasons, and I am no exception. Before my acceptance of my anxiety and then my Asperger's, I found the expectation high, and the breaks made to my family through deaths and emigration seriously difficult to deal with. Each year I hoped things would be different, that I would be different and that I would a) not disappoint and b) not be disappointed but I've come to realise and accept that Christmas comes with sadness and heartache, and the December chill brings back dreadful memories of losses at winter.
I also know now why I must be so single-minded about Christmas and make a project of it. I have a brain that cannot easily multi-task and job switch so I have to do one thing at a time ( I do have great multi-tasking skills on my own and at my own pace, but that's another story). 
But last night I felt incredibly wrong, unsettled and empty - as if I hadn't quite been living, perhaps. I lay awake almost all the whole night long and by 5am had become quite distressed. So today Richard and I agreed I needed a walk on the beach. And there you were, dear Beach, waiting and forgiving and beautiful. Thank goodness you were there to put everything small back into its small boxes and show me the big things. 
Thank you