My memory of life and the markers of its passing are refracted through the sea

‘That was the sea of early childhood memory. Innocent and content. Feeling the way. Jumping into the turbid green, but always in sight of the ladder’s safety.’ Photograph: Paul Daley

The sea in all its variations, from tranquil coves and moody bays to wind-racked ocean beaches, from the ostentatious harbour to meandering with dogs along a lonely shore, has come to encompass so many of life’s poignant memories.

My earliest – now briny – recollections include aunts and older cousins and a big sister on a yellow stretch of sand backed with multicoloured beach boxes, the calm, azure shallows of Victoria’s Port Phillip Bay our watery playground. It’s where I first dog-paddled, aged maybe three, when a cousin abandoned my hands. Sink or swim!