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Láska je silnější, Love is stronger
I sit here trying to raise a Czech-American girl.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here holding a membership to the closest Sokol unit to us, 3 hours away in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here pondering whether to continue to drive her 8 hours every Saturday to Czech school as we have for the past two years.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here wondering why is it so important for me to take a 10-hour pilgrimage to the Jan Hus memorial in Ely, Iowa.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here dumbfounded that I drove 22 hours to Bannister, Michigan to connect with more people celebrating Czech heritage.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here planning to drive 6 hours to Calmar, Iowa for a Masopust celebration.
K čemu to je? For what?
I sit here drinking tepid Mattoni and chilled Kofola that I drove 8 hours to get from a grocery store in Chicago.
I sit here with Czech pastries that I purchased and froze from a Czech festival 15 hours away in Tabor, South Dakota.
Stalo to za to? Was it worth it?
Ale teď...But now...
I sit here loving that she asks every morning „Mami, můžu se podívat na české kreslené pohádky?“
I feel peace. I feel contentment. I feel hope.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here loving that every shopping trip she finds a reason to ask „Maminko, můžeme si to dovolit?“
I feel seen. I feel familiarity. I feel proud that she would ask in that way.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here listening to Czech music and song, and she sings along.
My heart is amazed that she finds joy in the music and song of my youth.
I feel connection. I feel love. I feel this is real.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here reminiscing about each summer visit to the Czech Republic.
Our first drive through village streets at 6 years old, I hear her say: „Mami, I have seen this in my dreams.“
She is not phased by our hectic chaotic travel, but breaths deeply and says „Home sweet home“ upon arriving to the Václav Havel airport.
Her eyes light up with the sight of Mattoni, Kofola and the idea of walking to the market on cobblestone streets or having an adventure along the Moravice river.
I feel accomplished. I feel success. I feel her establishing a relationship to our homeland.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here smiling that at 7 years old she knows what castle she wants to get married at and what street musician she wants to play at her wedding.
I feel surprised. I feel her soul is deep. I feel grateful.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here looking at a photo of her at 8 years old proudly carrying a Czech flag in the Všesokolský Slet parade.
My heart is touched that it could mean so much to her.
I feel she gets it. I feel this love will continue in her even after my time on this earth is complete.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here just doing my best at trying to raise a Czech-American girl.
She says that I have done „everything right.“
I feel praise. I feel strength. I feel true to myself.
Stalo to za to. It was worth it.
I sit here thanking my God for orchestrating my life, thanking my Czech up-bringing for forming my character, perspective and sentiment, and thanking an obscure, humble, elderly woman figure in the old Czech fairytale Jak se budí princezny for teaching me the old adage
„Láska je silnější než smrt.“
Anna Cooková
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