As I ran my hand over the long brown wooden deck, I could feel the prickly splints jabbing at my fingers while the floor boards creaked underneath my feet. As I made my way to the edge of the rail I looked past all the other dull colored houses, and locked my gaze on the blue haze of the never resting sea. During the night, its constant chatter lulls me to sleep as I lay awake waiting for the sun to rise. I can taste its salt on my tongue every morning as I return to the deck to watch as the sun pokes its head out, like a gopher emerging from its hole, marking the beginning of another glorious day. When the sun finally blossoms like a warm yellow tulip, its rays send me warmth and color my skin from ghostly white to lobster red. The days I spend here are the days I always long to go back to during the unforgiving winter.