Good Morning

We are off to a slow start this morning, which feels appropriate for vacation. Breakfast is once again downstairs at the hotel—but today, mercifully, there is no waffle matriarch presiding over the iron with her clan of offspring.

I stride directly to the waffle maker, determined. The result is… structurally questionable. Slightly mangled. A waffle only a mother could love. I surrender the iron to Jeremy with the dignity of someone who has done her best.

We both end up with waffles and sausage links. Jeremy adds biscuits and gravy to his plate, because subtlety has never been his breakfast strategy.

On the Road

We head out toward Olympic National Park, passing through Tacoma—a sprawling city that stretches wide beneath the gray sky. From the highway, I can see the hospital where I was born. It feels strange and tender to glimpse the beginning of my story while on the road writing new chapters.

We continue north, driving along the bay until we reach Port Angeles, where the air feels saltier and the horizon wider.

Chestnut Cottage

For lunch, we stop at a small restaurant called Chestnut Cottage. Jeremy orders a club ciabatta with garlic gorgonzola fries and sweet tea. I choose chicken stir fry and water, because balance is still a journey I am committed to pretending I’m on.

Both meals are delicious—comforting in that small-town way that makes you feel like you chose wisely.

Olympic National Park

After chowing down, we drive back into Olympic National Park. (To read about our adventures there, click the link below.)

Olympia, Washington

Eventually, it’s time to leave the park and head south to Olympia. The drive is long, but we fill it with music, videos of the scenery, and the kind of conversations that only happen when the road stretches out ahead of you.

We arrive in Olympia and head toward downtown with no real plan—which is either adventurous or mildly irresponsible.

We park near a grocery store close to the city center and immediately obtain ice cream, because that feels like the correct first move. Jeremy gets mocha with nuts; I choose coffee. We take our cones to the docks behind the store and sit overlooking the bay, watching the light dance on the water.

There’s one of those tourist spyglass viewers mounted along the dock, so naturally we take turns peering dramatically into the distance. I snap a few photos through it, and a few of Jeremy looking like a thoughtful maritime explorer.

Afterward, we move the car and attempt to park closer to downtown proper. The vibe is… questionable. We walk about two blocks before mutually deciding that retreat is the wiser part of valor.

We drive around a bit longer until I spot the capitol building across the water and insist Jeremy pull over so I can photograph it. Priorities.

Eventually, we find a safer-feeling place to park and walk to King Solomon’s Reef—downtown, but removed from the earlier sketchiness by just enough to feel bold rather than foolish.

Jeremy orders fried chicken and waffles with a grape soda. I choose a Monte Carlo sandwich with fries and a hot chocolate.

Good Night

Before leaving town, we swing by the waterfront park to grab a few PokéStops—because even noble adventurers must tend to their digital creatures.

I drive us back, my first time behind the wheel of the rental car. It feels like I’ve unlocked a new level of adulthood.

Back at the hotel, we watch Will & Grace. Jeremy drifts off first. I follow soon after, tired and content, the day folded neatly behind us like a well-used map.