The hazy, grey clouds hung low over Oak Bay, temporarily obscuring any glimpse of either the Chatham Islands or Mount Baker. Listening to the waves crash against the shore and watching the sea gulls fight against the strong breeze brought me an overwhelmingly sense of peace and well-being. The heavy, wet air clung like static to the hotel blanket covering my lap.

Sitting outside at the patio table, my steaming cup of earl grey tea had rapidly cooled off. It was February, after all.

My husband, wrapped tight in his white, fleecy robe pushes open the sliding glass doors and ...

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