Three generations, one house, and a week that reminded us why we do this.
There are weeks that pass without much fanfare, and then there are the ones that stay with you. Our week at the East Hampton Estate was the latter.
We arrived on a Saturday afternoon. Three generations packed into two cars, the kids already arguing over bedrooms before we turned off the engine. By sundown, the grill was lit, the sprinklers were running across the back lawn, and Abuela was mixing her famous sangria in the oversized kitchen.
The beauty of East Hampton in summer is its rhythm. Mornings start slow. Coffee on the porch, the sound of waves just barely reaching the house. By mid-morning, we would pile into the car for the short drive to the beach, coolers packed, umbrellas in tow.
Afternoons were for exploring. The kids discovered the farm stand down the road and became obsessed with the fresh corn. We visited the local galleries, biked along the quiet lanes, and one afternoon, simply sat on the porch reading while a summer storm rolled through.
But the evenings were the magic. Long dinners that stretched past sunset, stories from decades ago mixing with the kids' laughter. No screens, no schedules. Just family, together in a beautiful place.
That is why we do this. That is why these homes matter.
