Birthdays are more than just a recognition of one’s birth. date. year. time. minute. second. place. Those days. . .Yes, those special Earth-born days are not just for to add a higher digit to our current age. Of course, it’s the logical thing to do. Our birthday celebrations are reminders that we have entered into another stage of humanity. And, we are never alone when we do. In fact, that was just the story for two, young Maidens of two, different lands. The week of April 16, 2017 in Cairo, Egypt, would ensure their narrative painting to unfold.
At a hostel, in Downtown, Cairo, a young, Russian Maiden had checked in. The Black American Maiden was already there. For a longer stay she would partake. Shortly after the April 16, 2017, evening of dinner (prepared by her handsome Beau), a Blackened flower of America’s fertile soiling, would cross paths with an enchanting, Russian Fairy, from a nation of snowy waters, away.
On a beautiful morning, while sitting on the hostel’s top spacing, the two, young Maidens engaged in conversation-natural woman’s talk. Sitting around a table, surrounded by nature’s bliss, an interest in the Russian language, folklore, and overall beauties of the country, came into light. Happy and delighted, the enchanting, blond fairy (with her laptop, nearby), opened up her computer screen to begin her eloquent presentation on Russia’s landscapes, and her people. It was a intriguing sight to see. The laughs. The giggles. Overall conversation. And the wonder in their eyes. Glacing her delicate fingers across the computer screen, Russia’s Maiden educated the Jazz Dame on one beautiful group of people, inhabiting Russia’s womb. Touches of rouge-browns painted their hair. Hints of fire-colored freckles decorated their faces.
Like a dutiful storyteller, the blond fairy spoke about the his/herstory of this people; and their culture in Russia’s domains. The Jazz Maiden was intrigued by the lush and therapeutic imagery; questions and hopes of one day of visiting this part of Earth’s terrain. . .took place. When the presentation had ended, the talk continued. Their travels. Their desires. And. . .the week. The birthday week. It so happens that both of their birthdays were on that same week. One had already occurred. The other was yet to take place. For the former, unpleasant and ill Beings had disrespected the day. Yet, on that following morning, the Russian fairy (along with her company), joined the Jazz Maiden (and Beau) for breakfest. Consisting of fish and other delicacies from the previous night. After the presentation, as eloquent and gentle as this Russian maiden could do, the deal was sealed. Another birthday celebration would take place. This time, it would be of Russian decor, and America (of Negro Blues coloring) was invited to come.
How glittery the night! Fairy dust of the Russian maiden had been sprinkled throughout the area. The word had quickly spread. And fellow hostel stayers journeyed to top spacing, in order to gain a whiff of Russian breeze. Flying down the stairs, into the kitchen, returning to the top again, the Russian fairy gathered mugs, a coffee maker, and other essentials to prepare the space. Her wings were invisible, but creative eyes could see them. Her vivacious hands motioned to the Blues Baby Maiden to quickly join them.
Wait. Turn around. Retrieve camera. Turn back around. Jog up the stairs.
The scene, and celebration, was just too beautiful (and magical) not to capture. A taste of pizza. Delicious sweets and cake. Tea. Coffee. Wine. And the magic begins. Floating throughout the space, she checked on guests, and tended to them, well. Pouring wine. Giggling. Picture taking, of course.
The night was a festive redemption for a hindered celebration; and an illumination for the current one. It was a healthy connection between two cultural Maidens. In the real world, it’s not always the case. Yet, on that night, it was made a reality.
Other gentle Spirits added vocal entertainment to the space. Heaven’s gardens were of Russian delight that evening. While the air highlighted traces of those gardens; covered in black, golden cotton balls of Jazz. Coming together, the two women celebrated the birth of time. Their time and feminine artistry in Earth’s spacing. Egypt was the focal point for this to happen. And, though no Egyptian-Arab maiden was present, you could imagine their echo of breaths, in the festival of Cairo’s streets. The two women had become a symbol on that night, and love was the center.
So, as the night swooned in with it’s delicate song; the reflection of their cultures together, proved there was nothing wrong!
From the Jazzy, cotton Maidens raining heavenly pennies above; to the danty, graceful fairies being from. . .Russia, in Love!