My family's hit the same vacation spot for 30 years.

Back in my angst-ridden teen years, I sometimes wished that we'd go elsewhere. I'd flip through RCI catalogs and wish we'd take advantage of the membership perks and trade for "exotic" and "adventurous" vacations in places like Colorado or Key West or Maine. But, every year, April or June, we'd be back at the beach.

An hour and a half from home — same pool, same couch, same restaurants, different year.

Looking back on it now, I am in love with the consistency … in love with the bond and the traditions it spawned. Like a birthday or anniversary, it's a worn groove in my mind, a trigger for reflection and memory — each week a notable notch on my personal timeline...