It was a glorious warm sunny morning on Anzac Day in Byron.
We took the kids to the main street to watch the march. They spent the next two hours asking questions about the soldiers, the soldiers who died and war.
The girls cheered and waved flags at the handful of soldiers who marched down Jonson St, their medals and their brows gleaming in the sun.
They thought about how when their grandma was their age, her daddy was away. Being a soldier. 'She must have missed him.'
We then swam at the beach, grateful we could do so.
As the sun set, we sat at the pub drinking beer and lemonade to the cries of 'come in spinner!'.