Just three hours east of my home in the Catskills lies a tiny seaside town north of Boston, where my aunt, uncle, and cousins live.
My cousin Shane and I lived in the Bay Area at the same time for a few years. We weren’t especially close as kids, but San Francisco laid the groundwork for a deeper bond, two family members who both carved out nontraditional paths.
Now, each summer, Shane returns to a house just down the road from my aunt and uncle’s 120-year-old home on Conomo Point, where their boat has been moored for the past three decades. There are only about 35 homes on the Point, all on land preserved by the state. For years, my uncle would say, “One day, I’ll own one of those houses.” When one finally came up for sale, he jumped.
That home has become a summertime anchor for the family. It perches above the harbor with sweeping views, windows and doors flung open to the ocean air. Mornings are spent on the wide wraparound porch, coffee in hand, gazing out at the calm bay. Showers are taken outdoors to conserve water in the tank that has to be pumped out which I adore. Indoor-outdoor living like that just isn’t possible in hot, humid Georgia.
My cousin Adam has been drawn to the sea since he was a kid. He’s worked on a whale-watching boat since junior high and still captains it on weekends,even with a corporate job in Boston. This trip, I spent long days on the water with Adam and Shane, on various boats. For someone who used to sail, it felt like home.
I haven’t spent much time in the Boston area, but every visit reminds me how much I love the people. There’s no better way to describe them than salt of the earth. I can’t wait to go back