[ CW ] Describe a landscape from the POV of someone who lost someone close to them in a war . Do not explicitly mention the person , the war , or death .

She comes to the beach every day. 
 
 In January it is a desolate place where the wind whips the sand into her face and whips the water into wild white horses that pound on the shore with thunderous hooves. The sea is deep and grey, its heavy voice threatening as waves pound upon the Groyne and above her, seabirds call to one another with plaintive keening that reminds her of the cry of a baby that never was. 
 
 In July, the sun turns the grey sand to gold and the grey water to green. The wind still whips at her hair and the white horses still race against the shore but the birds are gone and instead the air is shrill with the laughter of children and the barking of dogs that play in the space between the ocean and the land. 
 
 She stands on the end of the Gryone, far out over the sea, with the sharp taste of salt on her face, watching a ferry until it disappears over the horizon, then she turns her back on it and walks back to the beach. Every day the booming voice of the ocean invites her into its depths and every day she declines. 
 
 Today, she picks up a piece of driftwood from the sand. It's just a stick, worn and smooth from the waves, but it makes her smile. Today, she thinks that maybe she ought to get a dog.
