I used to live on a street called Summer Street and the beach park to go to there was Kuliouou Beach Park. I remember as a pre teen girl, coming here and finding it as a place to rebel and stay away from home. It was a depressing and confusing place to say the least. It was the furthest place I could go at that point and it felt so far and almost too far from home when it was actually only a 30 second walk away. Now skip forward 12 years, I realized I hadn't been there since I moved away from Summer Street 11 years ago. Kuliouou was no longer a place of interest unless I was picking up my grommet brother at the Moniz House. Today for the first time in a while we visited Kuliouou Beach Park where Phe picked up nuts off the grass, played in the sand and ran around aimlessly having the best time. It felt so nostalgic and so surreal to think I was here with my husband and son and merely there to veer my son away from stepping on the pokies. It's funny how life pans out..to think that one place can feel and mean so differently at one stage than the other, but at the same time so utterly nostalgic and stagnant. I wonder what I would have done then as a little girl, if I could have seen myself now on the same exact bench.
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