A Mother and Son Return to the Hamptons: Healing Old Wounds in a Familiar Place

There’s something about the Hamptons in the off-season that stays with you. The light falls differently across the East End’s green spaces, and the beaches stretch out empty, soft and white. For years, Hampton Bays was home. I’d commute to Manhattan on the Long Island Rail Road while my husband taught locally, and our son Dante would lie on his little toddler belly in the sand, sketching or digging. Now he’s 20, tall and lean, living three time zones away with his partner. I’m back in the city, working at Traveler, and I’d hoped he’d fall for urban life the way I did. But he’s a beach-town kid at heart, shaped by afternoons hunting tadpoles at Sears Bellows County Park and jogging with me to Squires Beach, where Shinnecock Bay opens up. We hadn’t returned since 2021, when we cleaned out our old house after my husband’s death. It felt too heavy. Then I spotted a new hotel in Hampton Bays while working on the Readers’ Choice Awards. I wondered what it would be like to see our old stomping grounds as visitors—to make new memories, maybe even find some healing. We booked a stay at Shou Sugi Ban House, a quiet, adults-only spot that opened in 2018. It’s tucked away, all barn-inspired buildings with glass walls overlooking gravel paths and tall grasses. We each had our own cottage—his with a modern egg-shaped tub, mine made of hinoki wood. It gave us space to reset, but also time to be together. We tried the water circuit, with its infrared sauna and three outdoor pools, and joined a sound bath. Lying in the dark, listening to rain sticks and gongs, I felt grateful to be there with my grown son. From there, we drove east. We stopped at the Parrish Art Museum, now a sprawling warehouse in Water Mill, then found LongHouse Reserve in East Hampton, where Dante remembered a life-sized chess set his dad used to take him to see. It was gone, but he rediscovered other pieces from childhood—the Fly’s Eye Dome, the grassy amphitheater. He told me stories of his father leading him through the grounds, when everything felt magical. In Montauk, Gurney’s was still the family-friendly resort we remembered, even after a 2022 renovation. We walked the private beach where we used to collect seaglass and rescue horseshoe crabs. The saltwater pool was full of shrieking kids, just like when Dante was small. We shared a room this time, but I snuck off for a morning zen class while he tried the steam room. We talked about everything—relationships, the future, the places that had closed: the diner with its red sign, Center Island store, the Friendly’s where we ate endless sundaes. The town’s only movie theater is shutting down soon. But it felt good to see Hampton Bays finally getting noticed, after years of being overshadowed by East Hampton and Amagansett. I saved a visit to the Evelyn Alexander Wildlife Center for next time. I bought a brick there in memory of my husband, for a new walkway. I can’t wait to show Dante when it’s done. Our trip lifted a gray veil. It honored the little-kid giggles of long ago, while pointing toward the future—traveling together as adults. I’ll keep coming back, as the East End changes and stays the same.