Ever since I’ve been a kid, I’ve loved autumn in Cape Cod. One weekend every fall, my extended family would make the four-hour drive to Green Harbor Resort in West Yarmouth for a long weekend filled with fishing, clamming, and beachcombing the shores of Lewis Bay. There were bicycle rides to Hyannis, lobster bakes on the beach, and late-night pool sessions where the water was so much warmer than the air it would often steam. Decades later, the memories still run deep.

And so I have continued the tradition with my own family. It’s a weekend we all cherish. My son loves fishing and crabbing. My oldest daughter loves dancing out back at the Black Cat Tavern. We all love the late-night swimming. We had hoped to return this year, but a preschool travel restriction meant a weekend trip would cost our youngest a week of school. And so we canceled.

Given all the pain of the past 18 months, canceling a weekend trip was obviously very trivial. Yet it still stung, another reminder that life is not yet normal. So we chose to honor the weekend by fishing. My husband suggested we try Ye Old Boatyard in Southport.

When we arrived, I knew why. The landscape looked like Cape Cod. Near the dock a long grassy marsh cut into the rocks, full of blue crabs and tiny fish. Across the channel, swirls of sand made a small beach, its curves natural and wild. And almost every time we dropped our lines, we caught a fish, my son grinning as he reeled in fluke and porgies and black sea bass. We stayed until we’d run out of bait and tired of catching our own, until our feet were cold and pruned and wet.  And while there was no late-night swimming or dancing at the Black Cat, pizza and ice cream at home also proved to be pretty great.

As the night ended, I thought about our weekend and hoped next year we’d make it to the Cape. But I knew that even if we didn’t, we’d be okay. Because Cape Cod isn’t just about the place, but the feeling. And for a few hours, we’d felt it in Southport on a small rocky beach.