the fairy tale night

The neighbors are roaring from the windows, upstairs and downstairs and across to other buildings. They are shouting gilosav (congratulations). The silhouettes in other buildings shout the same back, some waving the Georgian flag, glasses and bottles in the air in wave after wave of toasts and cheers. I stand on the balcony, alone, drinking it all in. We won a football match that no one thought we would. It is a rare and delicious moment for this tiny country that is so easily dismissed, and overlooked, half-unknown, or drawn as a simple cartoon while people lead impossible lives, navigating between the rock and the hard place for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I put some shoes on and wander downstairs, the halls dark.

Outside, a man carries a little baby in his arms like a trophy.

It is 1AM and all of the children are wide awake, jumping around like grasshoppers in their team jerseys. I imagine they will remember this night forever, and carry it with them as they grow old.

Down on Barnovi street every car is honking with wild abandon. Lights flash on and off. People lean from windows, and stand up in the sunroof if they have one, the wind in their hair. The flag is here, flapping around every place you look. I feel oddly jealous, that they can be so proud of their country - not the government, but the people that make the country what it is. A lump forms in my throat, as I am not a person that watches games, but all the same the moment is including me and I am part of this messy, noisy, glorious moment because I will remember it too, where I was and how the neighbors that never say a word to each other yelled gilosav to each other like they are old friends.

Tonight the impossible happened. You can believe or you cannot believe, it will not stop the good things from happening and sweeping you up with them. The fairy tale came true, and the fireworks are spurting across the sky and I find a little voice and yell gilosav because maybe I am one of them.