Being on a small tropical island, the sea has become a big part of our family psyche. It's at the end of our road, just a minute's walk from our door and it's not like a sea any of us has ever known before. From a distance it's bright turquoise, clear when you're in it looking down at your toes on the white sandy sea bed.
Sometimes we want to be in it. Drifting around in the shallows of our local rock cove - a natural pool of sparkling blue water sheltered by a semi circle of coral. Where it's always bath-warm and tiny translucent fish swim between your legs.
Some days, like today, we want to sit on the boardwalk - where the Caribbean Sea meets the Atlantic - and just watch it. There are three shades of blue gently fading into each other and far out on the horizon it's flat-still. But by our feet, the waves crash in and splash us. And tiny wet crabs scuttle along, camoflaged by the shiny brown rocks.
Earlier in the year we had some visitors and went on a catamaran boat trip for the day. At lunch time we dived off the boat into the deepest water I'd ever dared to swim in before. With my snorkle mask on I entered a new world where sound was muted and you could reach out and touch rays of sunlight. We swam with bright shoals of fish and then two giant turtles seemed to glide underneath us. So calm. They almost seemed to smile (the boat crew fed them of course).
We used to live in the suburbs of London and now we have this sea on our doorstep. It soothes, it beackons, it fills us with awe every day. We feel very lucky to be here.