How my mom would make cherry pies, and the whole house would smell of vanilla and warm dough. In the summer, I could sit by the lake for hours, listening to the frogs croak, and picking yellow flowers. We would build huts out of blankets in the yard and imagine that they were our castles. The sweetest memories are the evenings with my grandmother, when she would comb my hair and sing old Ukrainian songs. There was something about those songs that still makes my heart flutter. Everything was simple, but important. There were no smartphones, but there was a sense of real life. We were not afraid to get our hands dirty and were not ashamed to laugh at the top of our lungs. Sometimes I want to go back there - for a few minutes. Just to feel the warmth of childhood again. These memories are my inner talisman. They are always with me. Sometimes they are the ones that help me stay strong.