Day 11: Your First Holiday

Writing yesterday’s prompt about what home means prompted today’s prompt...

What was your first holiday? Or, perhaps, the first one you remember?

I have a memory, and I’m sure its false because I was too young, of being bathed in a washing-up bowl in a caravan in Pembrokeshire. There’s a photograph of me in said washing-up bowl somewhere, so I’m pretty sure my brain concocted this memory from that.

But still—my earliest memories of holidays are pretty much all from Marloes in Pembrokeshire (with a couple of exceptions for Ynys and Harlech Castle in north Wales).

I remember walking on the beach with my parents and my brother and our dog, Sally.

I remember being cut off by the tides and having to wade back around the headland, tied to my mum in case I floated off.

I remember nearly drowning when I stepped into a hole in the surf—and being sent to swimming lessons as soon as we got home.

And I remember feeling like the sea and the sun and the sand were part of me, and me of them.

What does this question prompt for you?

Set a timer and happy writing.

TTFN,

Vicky

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