Each year, we rent a house at the edge of the sea and drive there in the first of the summer-with the dog and cat, the children, and the cook-arriving at a strange place a little before dark. The journey to the sea has its ceremonious excitements, it has gone on for so many years now, and there is the sense that we are, as in our dreams we have always known ourselves to be, migrants and wanderers-travelers, at least, with a traveler's acuteness of feeling." --from ""The Seaside Houses"
by John Cheever
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Each summer, we embark on a cherished family tradition of renting a house by the sea, accompanied by our dog, cat, children, and cook. As we arrive before dark, the excitement of the journey lingers, rooted in years of repetition. The route to our seaside retreat carries a sense of ceremony, filled with anticipation and nostalgia.

This journey makes us feel like migrants and wanderers, embracing our identity as travelers. It evokes a heightened awareness of our surroundings, reminding us of the comfort and adventure found in our annual ritual of returning to the shore.

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