Dear Granny D

Dear Granny D,

You were right, travelling the world is one of the best things a person can do. I feel as if I’m constantly on an adventure — a quest to visit as many places as possible and to experience how different people live in a range of cultures.

I’m in a Byron Bay now, staying with Liv, a friend I made in Melbourne. We met two weeks into my trip on a spontaneous beach day with some colleagues, and we immediately hit it off — linking arms and laughing together within a few hours. She’s got a house in Lennox Head, which is a short drive away from the main town in Byron Bay, and she’s kindly let Freya, Lucas and I stay with her. You would really like her. She’s very pretty and down to earth, and she walks everywhere barefoot like a true Aussie.

I love it here, it’s so peaceful. Some of the locations we’ve visited have been so colossal and beautiful that I’ve had to pause for a while to soak them in. Just the other day, we climbed along an almost vertical cliff edge. Hot and sticky from the humidity, we trekked through deep sacramento green forests which held signs warning us of carpet pythons, walked along reddish hilltops made from of cracked and fissured clay, and tiptoed over upturned roots poking out from under the grassy knoll. One wrong step and we could’ve toppled over the edge and into the sea below.

We thought the nature-made path would lead us to a beach, but we rather annoyingly reached a dead-end near the bottom of the hill. I was optimistic that we could somehow climb down the remaining leg of the mountain, but the others had a more realistic outlook on the idea. With the razor-sharp rocks sticking out of the waters edge, it would’ve been too dangerous to attempt to lug our stuff down the hill, over the spiky rocks and over to the deserted beach — especially since we were in an area with no service and no way of getting help if something bad did happen.

This realisation forced us to pause for a minute, so we perched under the tree roots which were growing above ground. It felt quite magical, and reminded me of the immense and ancient tree in the The Magic Faraway Tree — its lengthy branches and thick trunk not too dissimilar with this one. I remember reading the children’s storybook beside the log fire at your cottage when I was younger. It reminded me of your apple tree in the garden, your own magic tree.

Stood on the hill, I closed my eyes. I could only hear the wind and crashing waves below; nature’s white noise. I could smell damp soil and my own sweat, and I could feel the hot sun pelting my face and shoulders. I thought if you in that moment. I could see you in my minds eye in the same position. I wondered what you might have seen when you went travelling in your 50s. What did you think about in moments like this? What did you feel?

I thought of what you always used to say to me, “No one looks up enough. You must always look up, Lara darling.” I looked up. The sunlight was causing the turquoise sea to glisten and shimmer. Between the rolling waves, a fin broke surface. I squinted my eyes and saw the silhouette of a dolphin. Gasps from the girls made me aware that there was a pod of dolphins. They were leaping in and out of the waves, playing with the tide and weaving in and around one another. It was the first time I’d seen a dolphin on the Australian coast! I’ve got a mental picture locked into my memory.

I’m thinking about you everyday. I’m tying to embody your optimism and free spirit. You always loved people so openly, listened to everyone’s stories and gave everybody your time. You carried a childlike curiosity about the world, yet your wisdom and grounded humility was abundant. You were elegant, graciously beautiful, and always prepared to laugh at yourself.

I will always hold a memory of you standing with your eyes closed and facing the sun on the beach in Salcombe, Devon. You always had an admirable ability to soak up the present. I feel as if you‘re with me sometimes, and I’ll continue to embody aspects of you throughout this trip and throughout my life.

Love, Lara