The first time I visited a legal cannabis dispensary was in 2015 near Sequim, Washington, on the Olympic Peninsula.  My husband and I were visiting the area on the last big RV trip we took together.  I was taken by the beauty of the area as we visited during a period of gorgeous weather, with clear blue skies and brilliant sunshine.  I later came to understand that this was the exception.  The area is plagued by gray skies even though it’s in the rain shadow of the Olympic Mountain range.

During this time, Washington State had just started sales of recreational cannabis in addition to their existing medical cannabis program.  So, there were two types of dispensaries, medical and recreational.  I didn’t know how to tell the difference between the two types, so I innocently wandered in to a medical dispensary, not understanding that I was supposed to have a Washington state medical cannabis card.

When I was stopped at the door with this information, I asked where a recreational dispensary was, as I was looking for something for my husband, who had Parkinson’s Disease.  They immediately said “Oh, you’re a caregiver.  No problem, come on in.”  And swept me in to their showroom and had me smell multiple jars filled with different varieties of dried cannabis.

I had no idea what I was looking at and smelling, and no idea what they were talking to me about.  All the terms sounded like a foreign language.  I felt like an idiot.  They were so kind to me and very patient and obviously had dealt with others like me who stood there with their mouths hanging open trying to process the entire experience.  I kept waiting for someone to burst through the door and arrest me.

I bought a ridiculous amount of cannabis but felt I should spend in relation to the kindness extended to me.  Once back at the RV, I dusted off my meager rolling skills and managed to put together a reasonable joint, which we smoked before dinner.  We then had a memorable meal, sang along to music turned up loud, and even danced a little bit.  I carry with me a wonderful memory of that night and of the Prussian Blue cultivar that helped us to put aside our troubles for a bit.