Do you have a vacation spot that has been a constant in your life? A place that you’ve returned to again and again at different ages and vantage points?

For me, my vacation constant was always Bethany Beach, Delaware. When I was little, my family went there every summer in August, for vacations filled with magic sandcastles and holes to China, fireflies and glowsticks, outdoor crab feasts and locally-made blueberry cobbler served up hot in the salty air. Each summer, I'd let the sun turn my hair nearly white while my face became a fireworks display of freckles.

Photo courtesy of Samantha Berg.

As I got older, the beach became my social playground. On my first day there each summer I’d scout out all the kids in my age range and set about making friends. Like the more romantic summer flings that came later, friendships developed fast and furious. Bonding happened over tidal pools and starfish, beneath gulls flying over the dunes. After hours spent in the surf, the tides would capture us, the currents carrying us past the invisible point where a parent would call us back, only to go out again.

Still older, I watched the moon rise above the water while gathering the makings of a bonfire. With friends, I’d play truth-or-dare, spill almost all my secrets, then go swimming in the dark, never knowing when the next wave would come. After, we’d let conversation carry us until dawn touched the Atlantic’s edge, lighting the sky as I trudged my way through the soft sand to my vacation home away from home.

Last time I was at the beach I got the sad news that a cherished beach friend of mine had passed away. The news changed the whole landscape into an absence, the sea salt wearing into the wound, and now it’s been over a year and a half since I let the Atlantic touch my toes.

Later this month, I’ll return. My whole family will gather for my mother’s birthday. I am curious to see how much has changed since I last was there, and how much I can recapture from the old days, and how much has stayed the same.