You Only Get So Many Summers Together

I used to think about vacations like expenses.

Flights, hotels, meals, gas, activities. Money out.

But the older I get, the more I think family vacations are closer to investments, investments in your family’s collective memory.

Not because they need to be luxurious. And not because every trip turns into some perfect movie moment.

But because time together compounds.

The older our kids get, the more I realize how few years we actually have where everyone is together in the same stage of life. Vacations slow things down enough to actually notice it.

For our family, that place has become Blue Ridge, Georgia.

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Why I Prefer Destinations We Can Reach in One Day

We live in Naples, Florida, and over the years I’ve realized I have a pretty hard rule when it comes to family travel:

I want to get there in one day.

For us, that means around 12 hours max driving time.

Not because longer trips are bad. But once travel turns into multiple days of logistics, unpacking, repacking, hotels, and surviving the drive, the road itself starts becoming the vacation.

Personally, I’d rather the destination be the vacation.

There’s something mentally different about leaving before sunrise, grinding through one long day in the car, and arriving somewhere you can actually settle into for a week or more.

The vacation starts before we arrive.

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The Drive Has Become Part of the Tradition

For our family, the drive itself has become part of the vacation.

We usually leave around 4am.

The roads are empty, everyone’s half asleep, and there’s something peaceful about getting out of Florida before sunrise.

Our first stop is almost always the Chick-fil-A in Ocala for breakfast, coffee, and gas.

Then somewhere before Atlanta, we stop at Buc-ee’s.

And honestly, Buc-ee’s with kids is basically its own event.

Jerky, fudge, drinks, brisket sandwiches, random snacks we absolutely do not need, and usually something ridiculous nobody planned on buying.

Then, before we get into Blue Ridge, we stop in Ellijay at one of our favorite farm stores for apple cinnamon bread, hand pies, apples, old-school bottled sodas, and whatever else looks good that day.

Honestly, that stop might be my favorite part of the drive.

It always feels like the point where normal life starts fading away.

By the time we get to the cabin, everyone has slowed down a little.

And I think that’s part of why the drive works so well for us.

We break it into manageable 3–4 hour chunks, which keeps the trip fun and tolerable for everyone. Long enough to make progress, short enough that nobody feels trapped in the car all day.

I think kids remember repetition more than perfection.

The same stops. The same snacks. The same roads. The same traditions.

Over time those things stop feeling routine and start becoming family history.

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Why We Keep Going Back to the Same Place

I used to think vacations always needed to be somewhere new.

Now I’m not so sure.

I think there’s real value in going back to the same places.

When you revisit the same area year after year, it stops feeling like a destination and starts becoming part of your family’s history.

You remember the roads. The restaurants. The rainy day card games. The coffee shop everyone likes. The mountain views. Tubing the Cartecay. The little traditions that accidentally become permanent.

The memories stack on top of each other.

And I think kids feel that more deeply than we realize.

That’s also why we started changing cabins every year while staying in the same general area.

Same mountains. Same traditions. Different cabin.

It keeps the trip familiar while still making each year feel a little different.

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Some of the Best Memories Aren’t Planned

Another thing that’s made these trips special over the years is that we rarely go alone.

And somehow, almost every year, we end up overlapping with friends and their families too.

Not always intentionally either.

Sometimes people are staying nearby. Sometimes dates line up. Sometimes one cabin turns into three cabins and dinners slowly grow larger throughout the week.

And honestly, those usually become the moments everyone remembers most.

The kids disappear for hours playing together.

The adults stay up too late talking on decks overlooking the mountains.

Someone starts a fire. Somebody brings dessert over. Plans change. More people show up.

The memories become collective.

And I think that’s part of what makes these trips feel different.

They aren’t just vacations. They’ve become shared chapters of life with people we genuinely love.

What makes it even more meaningful for us is that many of those families are part of our church community.

There’s something really special about your kids growing up not just around friends, but around families who share the same values, rhythms, and faith.

Years from now, I don’t think our kids will remember every detail of the trips themselves.

But I think they’ll remember the feeling of all those families being together in one place.

And honestly, that feels pretty rare now.

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The Three-Day Rule

Another thing I’ve realized is this:

It takes about three days to fully unplug.

The first couple of days of vacation aren’t really vacation yet.

Your brain is still moving at work speed. You’re checking your phone too much. Thinking about projects. Half-present.

Then somewhere around day three, something shifts.

The mornings slow down.

Nobody is rushing anywhere.

You start noticing things again.

That’s why I’ve become a big believer in longer stays whenever possible. Seven days minimum if we can make it happen. Ten to twelve days ideally.

Not because every day needs to be packed with activities.

Actually the opposite.

The best parts are usually the slow mornings, long dinners, walks, conversations, and random afternoons where nobody is doing much of anything.

That’s the stuff that’s hardest to create at home.

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You Realize the Summers Aren’t Endless

One thing that’s really changed how I think about family vacations is realizing how few summers you actually get.

Our oldest son is only going into his sophomore year of high school, but in my head I already think about it like this:

We probably only have about three more true summer vacations left before college changes everything.

Once kids get older, life naturally starts pulling everyone in different directions. Jobs, relationships, sports, internships, college schedules.

Even when families stay close, the window where everyone is fully together gets smaller every year.

That realization honestly changed the way I think about spending money on vacations.

Because when you start viewing these trips as limited opportunities instead of recurring events, they feel more important.

You realize you’re not just booking a cabin.

You’re preserving time together while everyone is still willing to pile into the car at 4am, still excited about the same traditions, same roads, same mountain trips.

One year will quietly become the last version of this chapter of family life.

And you probably won’t realize it when it happens.

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The Memories Are the Point

I still think new places matter. I want my kids to experience different environments and new experiences.

But I don’t think every trip has to be new to be meaningful.

Some places are worth returning to because they become part of your family’s story.

And years from now, I doubt my kids will remember what year work was especially busy or what quarter was financially strong.

But I think they’ll remember the mountains. The cabin. The drives. The farm store in Ellijay. The Buc-ee’s stop. The routines. The feeling of all of us being there together.

You don’t realize you’re building childhood memories while they’re happening.

You’re usually just trying to make the drive before dark.

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Notes to Myself

This isn’t really a post about travel.

It’s a reminder to spend the money, take the time, make the drive, and protect the traditions while we still can.