It had been a beautiful day and I was walking along a beach, along the water's edge. There weren't many people there as it was late afternoon and people had abandoned the sand for fish and chips dinners.

It hit me.

I didn't see it coming or even feel it, as such. The first time I felt aware of myself was when I opened my eyes, but couldn't see for all the sea water. I tried to take a breath but couldn't find any air to breathe. Panic ensued. Miraculously I found some precious air only to be overwhelmed once more. Gasping and thrashing, on a seemingly endless loop. Moments of slipping away from consciousness, losing any concept of the passing of time. Absolute, bone-aching exhaustion. 

Time, in an immeasurable way, passes and I can take some breaths without panic. Do I dare to try and lift my head to look around? I take the risk and immediately my face is full of gritty sand and stinging salt water. As the wave breaks over me, I give myself up to my sandy bed. 

The gaps in the waves seem to be extending and the anxiety seems to seep away with the waves, only to return with the water. My body is exhausted and just turning my head is a Herculean task.

I wake up to find the sun warm on my face, with salt crystals on my lips. I dare to look around and the scene before me is unchanged. I, however, am forever changed.

Is it hours that pass, or days, months or years? I finally am able to progress, to sitting and standing. The waves have not vanished but don't overwhelm me. I occasionally have to brace myself when they forcibly hit my knees. I don't want to be stuck here forever so I challenge myself to taking fear-filled steps, watching the horizon, for signs of the sea swelling. My breathing seems to be easier and I occasionally smile, though the weariness my body feels is like a darkness in my bones. 

BANG! Despite my hyper-vigilance, I blink and it knocks me off my feet, smashing me to the ground. Panic. Crashing in my ears. Salt water filling my sinuses. Weight crushing me down. 

Repeat and repeat and repeat...

In October 2003 I took a call on my mobile. I was running the toddler group that day so surrounded by three of my own children and many, many more. I only answered it because it was my dad. When you can hear your dad crying on the phone, you start crying before any words are spoken. In a moment in time seemingly every possible scenario had passed through my mind. In fact, my mum had died.

I didn't see the tsunami coming.