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.