She sat in the sand.

Her short legs stuck out in front.

She was duffeled up in a pink puffa.

And her tiny hands played with whatever they touched.

Her curly blonde hair was as short as she was young.

Two maybe.

Her nan stood beside her chatting to a man.

It was early morning.

The whole place was a basket of sun, light and water.

All I could see was fresh and clean.

Swept by night to a clear, heavenly morning.

The man walked on and the beach was empty apart from the girl and her nan.

When I returned ten minutes later.

The little girl was walking her nan's dogs.

Her tiny hands gripped the leads.

She led them.

Though they stood almost twice as tall.

That little girl would grow to love all dogs and would always love her nan.