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Cape May Point: Letters from Kyiv
Ode to a little seaside village at the tip of New Jersey
I write this to you my little village by the sea as my city burns, children and innocents are being shot in the streets, rockets, missiles and bombs fall from the sky throughout all hours of the day and night. Yet, I think of you in this horrible time because of the peace I had when I was with you throughout the full summers of my youth and young adult years. Maybe this helps me maintain my sanity or maybe because the end of my life may be closer than I expected. Years passed throughout my life when I thought that my life would end there on your quiet streets. But I was never hungry or successful enough to be able to afford to live there. Oh, but I visited you often because some of the best years of my life were spent in your dunes, on your beaches, on the dark grey rocks of your jetties and in the old homes of the Jersey Shore with their unique smell. I also came to say good-bye before leaving for Ukraine, wandered the quiet streets while regaling my wife with stories on your shores then spent a few hours in the sun on St. Pete’s Beach.
Smells I remember are of that pungent waft from the marshes and swamp that announced that we were…
