Baltic-American
Freedom Foundation

Participant Blog

Heart Skipped a Beat

In moments like this I like to close my eyes to feel souls of my beloved floating around me. Even if they are not here my memories are strong enough to make everything look kind of real – touches, smiles, looks, little talks. You know, souls dancing together like in Matisse paiting. Embrassing. Encouraging. Loving. Moments like this…
 
….Is that incredibly nice day in mid June. There's a little breeze but it's still warm enough to wear a little bright summer dress. Me and my two best friends sitting on a grass surrounded by hundreds of smiling people, smell of weed coming from bohemian hipster companies, enormously high sky, sun setting in the woods, feelings, all sorts of beautiful feelings, god, ain't it just so so good? And then they come to the stage - my favorite band – and everybody stands up and I'm sure hundreds of hearts skipped the beat with the very first guitar tune… Music can heal, can't it?
 
 
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Ieva, Mantas and me – waiting for the XX in Merriwheather Post Pavilion.
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One of these bright moments was also running to hug my mom and dad when they got of the bus coming from the DC airport. And then having them around for the whole 10 days: evenings together, showing around, telling stories, laughing at dad's incapability to fight jetlag, eating without forks in Ethiopian restaurant, riding city bikes at night to see monuments, teaching how to buy a metro ticket, going on a road trip together, gambling in Atlantic City, taking pictures next to the Love sculpture in Philly, trying out my Palaroid camera, getting lost in Times Square… I guess only those two little sweet teardrops running on my moms round cheaks while standing next to the MetOpera building can measure the feeling - just because you are really there –  right in the middle of your dream turning to reality. It actually takes some damn good guts to face it. To live your dream at it's full.  
 
 
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After a show in the Kennedy Center with Georgetown in a background.
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No forks? Feels Etiopian.
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Dad feeling American in Philly.
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Atlantic City boardwalk.
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Manhattan at it's best.
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Oh yes, and that morning, that Sunday morning in April when I was told to wake up too early. "it's your birthday gift, remember?" – I was told. "But my birthday was two days ago" -  I mumbled keeping my eyes closed. "No no, you have to wake up, I promised to make your dreams come true". Damn it!… Only a grumpy moron could refuse offer like that! As I consider myself totally opposite  it took only a few more mumbles for me to get up. We're gonna sleep when we're old, right? My first dream was a cup of coffee - which was certainly easy to come true – for the other one we had to drive a couple of hours down south. There were four of them  – people I love – making a surprise for me and giving me only mysterious smiles when I tried to find out where the hell we were going to.
And that hell… hmm, if hell was like that we all would be sinful bastards. Beautiful, georgeous, breathtaking Shenandoah Mountains with endless horizon and me feeling happy, free, loved.
One interesting fact – we also met a fit, beardy and really friendly hicker who apperantly had been hicking since August starting from Maine where the Mountains begin. Google maps say it's about 538 miles from Portland to DC only. Imagine walking this distance up and down the hill? Imagine the path which might be rocky, uncomfartable, steep and dangerous? Imagine you're all alone with yourself for seven months? I can't. The only thing I can imagine is Baz Luhrmann calming voice: "….the race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself".
 
 
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Kidnapped!
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The Family.
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Shenandoah.
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I'm still having lots of precious moments and they seem to double in summertime. Everybody at my office knows that so – be prepared for big jealousy – I have every second Friday off! How fancy is that to run away from humid as my granpas sauna DC jungle and begin your weekend a bit earlier getting sexy tan in the beach? or to jump spontaneously on the bus to New York? or to have a girls night out with your best friend who flew to America from Zurich? or jump in the pool a block away from your new house?
Yes – a new house. Again. Have you already laughted enough and can read further? I know I should join some sort of "people who like to move out every few months" club and BAFF should probably give me a 'best movers' award but well I've finally found home where I feel safe - and after all I've been through past month (let's not get into details:)) it's finally peaceful and fun! 
Most of my summertime evenings are now spent on the porch in the backyard while having a glass of wine, nice chat, reading poetry or just enjoying a big summer storm. When I skype with my sister I make her wonder if she really hears birds singing around. My friends never skip the invitation to my house whether it's a traditional Lithuanian cold borch tasting, pizza evening, pre-party or afterparty. Everybody loves this place. We lough and cry, we get stupid and open our hearts, we teach my roommate some gentle Lithuanian cursing, we share music, thoughts and jokes. And it's wonderful. Some good times I deserve to have.
 
 
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Ocean City.
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Meeting best friend in New York is just crazy. Really.
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Camping weekend 
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Going for tubing on a school bus!
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Enjoying talks on the porch.
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Lithuanian cold borsch tasting.
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By the way, there was also this kinda life changing moment recently. I was sitting next to the canal in Georgetown crying after a horrible day when this stanger came by asking if I was fine. "I'm ok" – I replied wheaping so after a while he came back and gave me a double chocolate cupcake
 
Somehow life here in the States made me believe more in myself. Be more optimistic or just take things as they are. It also made me realize that life is so so so full of heart-skipping-the-beat moments. Your job is to grab them, feel them, embrace them, experience them, and then let them go but never ever forget.
So if you are miserable, if things go wrong, if life gives you lemons, a punch in the face or shows you a middle finger – just look around you and don't worry. Because – believe it or not – there's always gonna be somebody with a cupcake. For you.
 
 
 
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Georgetown canal where a cupcake story happened..