“I don’t want to leave leave”, was what I apparently said when we were starting from the beach. My mother has told me about this trip to Goa when I was almost three, and how scared I was at the sight of the sea.
I didn’t have this memory but always remembered the story, how they dragged me into the water and in the end
I refused to leave.
At some point in my life I just remembered or had flashes of this memory. Nothing about the whole trip except refusing to leave the water and my brother building a sand Castle as the sun set and from the horizon the light cast on to the water and sand.
The sand Castle kept getting washed up by the waves, he did not stop building till it was time to leave.
He didn’t give in, initially but did give up, finally
I have a fantasy of wanting to live next to a water body, if it doesn’t happen I’ll just get a swimming pool in my backyard and a koi pond on the front lawn.