Seaside-Our Refuge

Seaside Heights was known for its boardwalk, a carnival of joy where families from all corners came to bask in the sun and lose themselves in the simple pleasures of popcorn, ice cream, and steak sandwiches. To outsiders, it was a postcard town, a place for sunlit memories and carefree days. But there was another side to Seaside

Heights, a side that wasn’t printed on postcards or featured in travel brochures. It was a side you only knew if you lived there—if you had roots that tangled beneath the sandy walkways and into the hearts of those who called this place home year-round. For us—the band of siblings thrust into yet another new beginning—it was our battlefield and our sanctuary. Our parents, caught in their own whirlwinds, left us to fend for ourselves often. But what we found in Seaside Heights was more than just a home; we found a family not bound by blood but by circumstance. Our friends, a motley crew of locals and other drifters, became our tribe.

Together, we navigated the undercurrents of small-town life. We shared secrets in the shadow of the Ferris wheel, comforted each other through storms both meteorological and emotional, and found laughter even on the gloomiest days. The boardwalk was our backdrop, the beach our refuge. Seaside Heights, for all its outward charm and bustling tourism, was a complex tapestry of joy and hardship.