This summer I vacationed on Pearl Street in Beach Haven, my hometown, my heart.
I have lately taken to wearing my deceased grandmother's ring; it's shiny and antique and makes me think of her, which is a strange, new feeling. We weren't close.
One of my other grandmothers (this one) still lives in the Beach Haven house in which I grew up; it's an historic site on the island. (Literally.)
In 1960, the Baldwin Hotel in Beach Haven, situated on the very same Pearl Street mentioned above, burned down.
GHOSTS.

These are swimming in my head today. That's a picture of the Baldwin Hotel. Isn't it just gorgeous?