Summer Memories by the Black Sea

Each summer, for a handful of sacred days, my Mother, Father,

sister and I traveled to the Black Sea. How fortunate we were that Romania had its own stretch

of shoreline—and more fortunate still that our relatives lived in one of the coastal cities.

The beaches were packed, flesh and laughter braided together, the whole nation

on vacation, holding regular salaries in their fists with nothing to actually buy

once you left the sand and found only dust on the shelves of the shops. In the evenings,

Romanian musicians bellowed at the annual festival in Mamaia. We lined up for

the flavors so rare they felt like myth: boiled corn, clătite, and ice cream handed