“I’m having a private party ain’t nobody here but me my angels and my guitar singing baby look how far we’ve come yeah/I’m having a private party learning how to love me. Celebrating the woman I’ve become” – India.Arie
Today, I’m getting married to my Confidence.
Something old: Prague…especially Old Town.
Something new: Adulthood
Something borrowed: Mom’s clothing
Something Blue: The grossest drinks here; Kyle you would not enjoy this!
Been thinking a lot about presents lately cuz these X-mas markets are a FANTASTIC (yet oddly expensive) place to find little trinkets that make me think of the amazing people in my life. I don’t know if I’ll make the best decisions as far as what goes to who, but boy is it fun to shop for things with the explicit purpose of finding things that are perfect for others. For those who do read this, just remember I have a whole ‘nother 4 months in a completely different place where there may be something I think fits you better than anything I find here! I don’t want anyone to feel left out, so just know that I like to buy presents when they jump out at me specifically for that person in that specific Moment. I don’t really like generic presents. I mean who does, really?
On my end of the ‘present’ scale, I knew I wanted to keep something special from Prague and I figured a stone was probably the best thing because there are so many little ones just laying around, waiting for someone to give them a home. As I got on the 22 home yesterday, I was inspired.
A STONE FROM PRAGUE (Yes, Hope. More poetry from Holland!)
From the fear to the joy and back
Remember the way you unlocked
The door to your deepest emotions
Thinking you had swallowed the key long ago.
Remember when you walked alone
Remember when you walked with everyone.
Remember how you wanted to run?
How you did and wanted to come back?
There was a moment it changed
Remember how excited you were?
You let it all go.
Took your first breath in months.
Let this stone
Help you remember.
“Every little thing, Holland, like smiling, baby stepping, or sauntering, is pounced upon, celebrated, and made into a sort of breakfast cereal here, for champions....
It's so cool, huh, Holland?” - TUT