Every summer I traveled to my second hometown, Donetsk, to see my grandparents with my mother. Looking back at my memories as a child in Ukraine fills my heart with bittersweet nostalgia. A lot of things in my life trigger my memories of Ukraine. One of the simplest things, like to catch a faint whiff of dill, instantaneously evokes in me a vivid recollection of my grandparent’s house, it was like a gateway to the past, a flashback to my great and active and childhood that I feel so blessed to have had. Summer was always accompanied by scraped knees and purple-stained fingers. Our neighborhood had a huge infamous Mulberry tree right in the middle of it that stained the ground with purple spots, and reaching out to the highest branches (with the tastiest and most ripe berries) was always risky because they left indelible stains on my clothes! Being sort of a jungle kid I encountered many risks. I lived and spent a large portion of my childhood time outdoors; climbing trees, building tree …