A Goodbye to Brighton

Once upon a time, I moved to a town called Brighton; a town inhabited by the most wonderful and strange people on Earth, who breathed in the salt filled air and found themselves lost in the paradise of its separation. There really was no place in the world quite like it. 

I resided there for nearly four years, indulging in the ability to step foot in the ocean without a second thought. 

I worked in the most wonderful little shop with the sweetest people who really made my fate bittersweet. 

For the bliss of Brighton was not to be forever. 

There came a day when I was to leave behind the blue skies, the summer bunting, the meandering lanes. 

And so I took a final walk.

I walked through my favourite shops, the quirky stalls that I had taken advantage of for so long, never really realising how much I appreciated their odd little presence. 

I looked up, falling in love with the pink, blue and yellow flags that waved at me as I passed by. In the Winter months they had been replaced by twinkling Christmas lights which were welcoming but not the same. 

I said goodbye to the beautiful place I had called home for so long. 

I thought fondly of the fact that so many talented people lived there, that even though I hadn't ever met them I still felt some form of closeness to them. They, after all, had inspired me to write. 

And although it was time to say goodbye, I knew this was not the end. 

Brighton had changed me. It had started something special. 

I knew in my heart that I would always return. 

And as I sat on the beach, watching the sun disappearing over the crest of the waves, I said goodbye to Brighton...

...and I think the sky was saying goodbye to me too.