Beauty Reals- Icicles in Amsterdam (excerpt)
Icicles in Amsterdam
(excerpt)
By Crystal
Granderson-Reid
Amsterdam rooftops-view from hotel room
Broken glass hung from my face like icicles off a frozen facade. Years of envy created an acrimonious stranger hell-bent on destroying my face, destroying me. The world, as I knew it, fell to pieces. But moments before shattered crystal crashed into my face, that stranger was my friend. Absorbed in Amsterdam’s bucolic framework, I encountered a dilemma: how to escape whole when pieces of me hang in the balance.
I went on vacation with friends of twenty years. We’d met while childless, broke and carefree. Celebrations were key to sustaining our connection yet life was happening. With eleven children between us, our respective nights and weekends stocked with ballet, basketball and baby babble we were missing each other. So we decided to celebrate our entry into middle-age with two weeks in Europe. And while planning proved a prodigal undertaking that took the better part of a year, Paris promised to be the cake and well, Amsterdam, the icing on top.
Icicles in Amsterdam
(excerpt)
By Crystal
Granderson-Reid
Icicles in Amsterdam
(excerpt)
By Crystal
Granderson-Reid
Icicles in Amsterdam
(excerpt)
By Crystal
Granderson-Reid
Amsterdam rooftops-view from hotel room
Broken glass hung from my face like icicles off a frozen facade. Years of envy created an acrimonious stranger hell-bent on destroying my face, destroying me. The world, as I knew it, fell to pieces. But moments before shattered crystal crashed into my face, that stranger was my friend. Absorbed in Amsterdam’s bucolic framework, I encountered a dilemma: how to escape whole when pieces of me hang in the balance.
I went on vacation with friends of twenty years. We’d met while childless, broke and carefree. Celebrations were key to sustaining our connection yet life was happening. With eleven children between us, our respective nights and weekends stocked with ballet, basketball and baby babble we were missing each other. So we decided to celebrate our entry into middle-age with two weeks in Europe. And while planning proved a prodigal undertaking that took the better part of a year, Paris promised to be the cake and well, Amsterdam, the icing on top.
Amsterdam rooftops-view from hotel room
Broken glass hung from my face like icicles off a frozen facade. Years of envy created an acrimonious stranger hell-bent on destroying my face, destroying me. The world, as I knew it, fell to pieces. But moments before shattered crystal crashed into my face, that stranger was my friend. Absorbed in Amsterdam’s bucolic framework, I encountered a dilemma: how to escape whole when pieces of me hang in the balance.
I went on vacation with friends of twenty years. We’d met while childless, broke and carefree. Celebrations were key to sustaining our connection yet life was happening. With eleven children between us, our respective nights and weekends stocked with ballet, basketball and baby babble we were missing each other. So we decided to celebrate our entry into middle-age with two weeks in Europe. And while planning proved a prodigal undertaking that took the better part of a year, Paris promised to be the cake and well, Amsterdam, the icing on top.
|
Amsterdam rooftops-view from hotel room
|
Broken glass hung from my face like icicles off a frozen facade. Years of envy created an acrimonious stranger hell-bent on destroying my face, destroying me. The world, as I knew it, fell to pieces. But moments before shattered crystal crashed into my face, that stranger was my friend. Absorbed in Amsterdam’s bucolic framework, I encountered a dilemma: how to escape whole when pieces of me hang in the balance.
I went on vacation with friends of twenty years. We’d met while childless, broke and carefree. Celebrations were key to sustaining our connection yet life was happening. With eleven children between us, our respective nights and weekends stocked with ballet, basketball and baby babble we were missing each other. So we decided to celebrate our entry into middle-age with two weeks in Europe. And while planning proved a prodigal undertaking that took the better part of a year, Paris promised to be the cake and well, Amsterdam, the icing on top.
Comments