I pull into the gravelly driveway. The town of Clinton is really just a spread out row of homes along a single road against the Puget Sound. The ocean breeze immediately puts me at ease as I open the door and enter the cottage. Water color and oil paintings adorn the walls inside. A bottle of red sits next to a bouquet of beautiful flowers. The large bay windows let you enjoy the views. I will easily get lost in some well needed relaxation.

The back patio is full of more flowers, green grass and the remnants of a bountiful summer garden. I sit and people watch. Joggers on the beach, paddle boarders and fishing boats on the ocean, children building sand castles.

Time seems to last longer out here, and so I take full advantage of what seemed to be one never-ending day after the other. Impossible yet somehow completely true, if that makes any sense.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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