Island

In six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

—Exodus 20:11

For many years, we’ve been going to a tiny little island for our family vacations. We love it there, and there are a million reasons why. It’s the jumble of the waves and the sand and the goats tied to stakes in people’s yards and the glittering green-blue of the water and the smell of conch fritters dipped in their mysterious sauce that I finally discovered is just ketchup and mayonnaise—it’s those things that make it magic, that have made it the backdrop of our family’s memories for over a decade.

It’s all those things, and something that our family becomes when we are there. We’re the best version of our family there, relaxed and connected and without agenda or schedule. We have conversations that unfold lazily and resolve over days instead of minutes. We tell stories that everyone’s already heard, and it doesn’t bother us. We make up plans as we go, and we’ve been going there long enough to have patterns just like worn spots in carpet, patterns that have become traditions, things you do without thinking, that feel familiar and meaningful.