Where the Suburbs Meet the Sea

“Where the Suburbs Meet the Sea” I walked again where I began, past fences worn, where gum trees ran— but now the tide had kissed the land, and waves rolled in like time unplanned. The house was there, but changed in tone, a quiet shell, yet not alone. The breeze had salt, the air was still, the sea had climbed the outer hill. And there they were—my loyal kin, tails low, eyes soft, worn thin within. They didn’t bark, they didn’t run, just looked at me, like “What’s begun?” One limped with iron in her paw, a bolt where nature used to draw. Not cruel, just… wrong, as if the past was patched too quick, too hard, too fast. I knelt and cried—I didn’t speak. The pain was old, the silence deep. I whispered love into the air, and felt the stillness start to care. No fixing now, no need to mend— just sit beside what doesn’t bend. To hold the ache, to stroke the fear, and say, “I see you. I am here.” They faded then into the blue, not lost, but freed—returned, renewed. And in their place, a softer me, stood where the suburbs met the sea. Lev