I am a creature of habit. I come by it honestly; so are my parents, who began visiting Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, in the late 1980s and never stopped. For nearly every one of the last 25 years, summer for me has meant trekking out to this tiny seaside town.
Sometimes I wonder why my family never branched out, why we so willingly became creatures of habit. But here’s the truth: There’s something marvelous about eschewing the new in favor of the familiar, of reveling in the warm embrace of memory.