Each weekend since Russia invaded Ukraine, lines snake around the block for D Light Café & Bakery in Adams Morgan.
Anastasiia Derun, the Ukrainian immigrant who owns D Light alongside her younger sister Vira, says she's dreamed of huge crowds gathering at the establishment since it opened this fall. But not like this.
"This is not the reason I want to have a lot of people," she says.
Still, she's grateful for the support from near and far. "People from Russia, Moldova, Kazakhstan, everywhere in Europe who is against all this nonsense and against all this suffering and losses. They come support, hug, cry with us," she says.
Article continues belowAs members of the Ukrainian community in the region live in a state of fear and anxiety, gathering to rally and raise money for the military and aid groups, they're seeing an outpouring of community.
Blue and yellow flowers now color the lush white interior of D Light Café & Bakery. Even on a rainy weekday afternoon, customers fill many of the tables. They're on their computers, reading, eating, and catching up, while a steady thrum of patrons walk in and out with their to-go orders.
Kendra Stephens lives nearby. She sits at a table, eating a gluten-free waffle, lentil soup, and sipping a cup of tea while working.
"I'm excited to be here to support the sisters because it's important that we do so," says Stephens. When she swung by a few days prior, "there was a line around the corner and I was like, 'What's going on?' And I realized that people were here in support. So it was really nice. It was heartwarming to see so many people in the neighborhood who live in the neighborhood, and people who just drove from different parts of the DMV to be here."
Nearby, Adams Morgan resident Steve Floyd just finished a matcha croissant. He's popped by to pick up food to go, and this is his first time sitting for lunch. Floyd says he was thinking about the invasion of Ukraine when he walked in today --- "it's hard not to" --- but he also came in because D Light is a neighborhood spot.
"Adams Morgan has developed into this great little hub of wonderful bakeries," he says, noting Sharbat, the Azerbaijani bakery and café next door, and nearby Armenian establishment Yerevan. Over the past year, this strip of 18th Street NW has turned into a former Soviet block of sorts, in which ex-pats share the cuisines of their homelands.
"I always had this idea since I was a kid," says Anastasiia. Her grandmother is a chef. "She kept telling me, 'Please don't do the restaurant business because people never appreciate it.' " For years, she tried to listen. She enrolled in school in Kharkiv, a city currently under intense attack by the Russians, to become a notary. In her second year, she realized that her dream felt just as vital as ever, and decided to follow it. After about a decade in the hospitality business, she and her sister Vira, 21, who studied business, decided to team up and open D Light.
Food runs in the family. Even their last name, Derun, translates to "hash brown" in Ukrainian. (It's no surprise that customers can order hash browns a few ways at D Light.) That fact is part of their parents' love story.
"My dad proposed to my mom in three days of meeting her," she says. "And my mom asked him, 'Why would you ask me to marry so fast? I don't even know your last name.' He said, 'Trust me, it's very yummy.' "
Now, she constantly worries about her parents. Her mother is staying in Ukraine with her father, who has shared his hunting equipment with neighbors to fight Russian soldiers. "He wants to protect my country," she says. "He wants to protect his house, his family members. Sometimes he calls me and tells me, 'I'm so happy you two are there,' but I really understand that he needs me and Vira right now. But so far what we can do [is] send money to the city to help just a little bit."
A clear donation box by the register with a "Support Ukraine" sign is packed to the brim with cash. Between last Tuesday and Sunday, they raised $7,400 in donations, with more funds coming in since.
When the invasion began, Anastasiia suggested they temporarily close the business, though Vira refused, because she wanted to make sure the family could still rely on them for support.
That reasoning "makes sense," says Anastasiia, "But emotionally and physically, plus, we were not ready for this ... It's tough to hold on. When you check news for a long time and you cannot literally sleep peacefully because you're always waiting for the call. You know, I'm always waiting for the call."
Each phone call with loved ones is agonizing. "When I tell my mom, 'Have a good night,' I'm not saying good night, because there is no such thing like a good night now," she says. "I'm telling her, 'Have a peaceful night,' and it's scaring me to death that the next morning, I won't be able to hear 'Good morning.' "
This story is from DCist.com, the local news site of WAMU.
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