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stage plays there, and Russian tsars and their families vacationed each July at the beautiful palace in Livadia, several miles north of Yalta.

Every morning of our vacation in Yalta, we opened the big Venetian windows in our spacious apartment on the beach and gazed at the endless expanse of sea and sunny, blue sky. Before going to sleep at night, we were again attracted by the sky, this time to gaze at the Milky Way, which looked like millions of stars had been swept across the sky in a single brush stroke. There in Crimea I saw closely for the first time stars falling toward earth and never reaching it. They burned up so fast.

“Look, a star fell!” exclaimed Laura.

“They say that when a star falls, a person dies. A star cannot live when there is no energy to keep it burning. It’s the same for people,” I told her.

“This is very sad, but it is so beautiful at the same time,” continued my sister.“As a child, I dreamed of igniting the stars. It seemed that if you could keep them illuminated, no one would die. And my magical stars would not fall so suddenly and quickly out of the sky,” said Mama softly. With the midnight blue sky as a backdrop the lighthouse clearly stood out, but the stars shone above it like fireflies in a woodland village of fairies. Suddenly a second star fell and cascaded through the sky.

“Oh, my God! It’s really scary,” I said.

“Don’t be afraid of fal ing stars,” responded Papa. ”Better make a wish quickly. I know your wish wil come true if you want something good to happen.”

We closed our eyes and made a wish to return to Crimea next summer, Dialogue with the Trees of Strength and Everlasting Life @ 233

where we could easily breathe in the fresh fragrance of cypresses and listen to the sound of sea waves with foam-white crests rol ing to the shore.

“You know, girls, it is true that some stars quietly witness death, but I never was afraid when I saw them,” said Mama. “A white fal ing star is the shadow of a person who has passed away; it is his echo. Everyone has his own star. It lives in the sky while the person walks the earth. But there are silver fal ing stars, which bring hope and grant wishes. You can easily recognize the silver ones. They are usual y bigger and brighter when they descend from the sky.”

“Girls, come close. I wil tel you a fairy tale about how children threw the sun into the sky. My grandma told me this when I was a little boy,” Papa said. A long time ago the sun was a human who

had two bright lights under his arms. When

he raised his hand, the earth was illuminated with sunbeams, as it is now with electricity. When he went to bed, everything plunged into cold and darkness. People didn’t want to live in darkness and decided that children must fetch the Sun Man and take him to the sky.

This decision was passed down from generation to generation. One day some children sneaked up on the Sun Man when he was sleeping. They took him by force and threw him like a ball to the sky. Those children had forgotten that their elders had told them to treat the Sun gently. Since then the Sun walks on the sky, lighting up everything around. When the Sun rises, he sends away the cold and darkness and his light spills all over the earth and warms every living thing: people, trees, plants, flowers, and animals. But at night the Moon came to the sky. Nobody expected that the Sun would see the Moon at this time. When the Sun saw the Moon, he pierced her through with one of his sharp knife-like beams. The Moon was badly hurt and begged the Sun for mercy. She asked the powerful Sun if she could at least keep her backbone. The Sun was a generous person and allowed the Moon to keep her backbone. She was still sick when she returned home and remained hidden for several days, but soon the Moon recovered from her wounds and appeared again in the sky. Each day she grew

larger and larger until she became whole and full. And that happens every time the Moon enters the sky.

“That is the end of my story,” said Papa.

234 ^ Mama’s Home Remedies

We listened to the sound of waves crested in white foam rolling slowly to the shore. As if on cue, the midnight-blue sea suddenly

became antique gold in the middle as the full

moon blazed her path through the sea.

“It is known that at such times of full moonlight great writers were inspired to create their best romantic poems,” added Papa. “Tomorrow will probably be a beautiful, romantic day.”

The next morning the gentle sound of the blue sea woke me up. It always seemed as if it beckoned to me to come and swim in its grandeur. I enjoyed a refreshing swim every morning at sunrise and then carried renewed energy throughout the day ahead. I felt ready to absorb new and exciting impressions from the beautiful surroundings.

Clusters of oleander rustled their narrow green leaves, and pink cyclamen flowers basked in the sun, raising their heads to the sky as Yalta awakened slowly and lazily. Under the rising sun vacationers began to fill the soft, golden sand beaches. But we had already enjoyed the water and were ready to explore new areas of Crimea.

Often Mama and Papa would entertain my sister and me after the beach with promenades

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