The gentle melody of windchimes paired with the waves crashing against sand rid your mind of worries. The chimes had been a gift from Jean, who had taken up wood carving as a hobby; one that he was in no doubt good at, given the beautiful song the wooden instrument provided. It hung from the porch roof, right by the kitchen window so you could listen as you cleaned and cooked. It provided a much needed relaxation, as you usually woke up earlier than your husband from night terrors.
It was almost funny, really. Around seven years in the military fighting giant beasts and corrupt governments and now you were a housewife almost bedridde