In summer we find ourselves driving along the sandy roads of our past. The creep of time and population alter these places that call us home: dirt roads are now paved and dotted with new development, shopping malls replace the row of two-room cabins, old homes torn down for duplexes, but despite these changes you go back. Those of us lucky enough to descend from a large sprawling brood, lucky enough to remember when the whole sea-side town part of that extended family, yearn to see what remains of the the old haunts, to hear the old familial laugh, to glean from the next generation of faces those same big eyes or jaw line you knew way back when you tooled around with your gang of cousins going from beach to kitchen to beach to ice cream stand.