'On Wider Seas' by Kay Sandry

Living at my Grandma’s meant leaving my seaside home and the little school with its pebble-dashed walls that overlooked the village green. No longer were swimming lessons held in the open pool under the towering cliffs at the end of the beach. We learned to swim quickly in the icy salt water of the North Sea, the fear of freezing encouraged our progress. When not in the water we sat shivering on the sea wall huddled together for warmth. Kirsty and I picked at barnacles and whelks trying to prise them away from the wall with our numb fingers. The boys dived for seaweed to throw at the girls.

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My Grandma was deeply religious. Her God was a fierce God, jealous of her affections and terrible in his judgement. Her God took her eldest son and sent him to the bottom of the sea in the time of war because she loved him too well. Her God turned the unborn girl-child within her to mush and sent her scrambled juices skidding down the pipes of the outside netty in the dead of night. Her God taught her obedience and unswerving loyalty through pain and loss.

Mary was my grandmother’s name. It comes from the Hebrew, Miryam, which translates as, ‘sea of bitterness, sea of sorrow’.

I thought it suited her.

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It is our differences that mark us for who we are.

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The day before I left my home by the sea was also the day I turned eight. It dawned a perfect spring day just after Easter. I knelt on the arm of the old settee and pressed my face hard against the window; the glass cold against my clammy forehead. From my perch, I watched impatiently as the swans glided slowly on the calm river water below our grey stone home. Seagulls flew high overhead, mocking the stately progression of the swans in coarse tongues, diving low then wheeling away high into the sky laughing. It was just that kind of day.

*

I could not bend my knee to her God, no matter how much she tugged at my thin arm with her white misshapen fingers. No matter how she implored me with her pale unfinished eyes. Instead, I held my breath.

When I breathed again my breath tasted pink, like cherry lips.