C is for......

I know you're all expecting Cherry because I was/am in DC for the cherry blossoms.  Completely over rated and not at all the zen experience I had imagined. Boooo.......  Oh unwad your panties.  The cherry trees themselves are magical.  It's the whole rest of the free world also gawping at them that ruins it.

But like sometimes happens, the cherry blossoms may have just been the vehicle to get me here.

I was pretty sure that it would be all about the cherry blossoms and that nothing else would pull at me.  But when the Metro stopped at Metro station and I found myself underground with a sea of humanity, exactly the kind of thing that makes me run for the exit, I bailed on the Metro and decided to proceed on foot from there.  Me and all the incredibly lithe runners of the half marathon.  Why am I hearing that Sesame Street song 'One of These Things'?  Anyway.  Since I was on Pennsylvania Ave, I decided to go down and see Barack's Howuss.

Standing there in front of the White House, I get this weird urge to cry.  Really?  What's that about?  It is my first time seeing it, but like lots of other things it seems smaller and more contained in person but hardly enough to make me cry for chrissake.  I suck it up, because it probably isn't a good thing to stand with your nose to the fence in clear view of security cameras and bawl if you have been asked about terrorist activities recently.

From there I tooled south toward the cherry trees.  Stay on target.  I stopped to admire the Washington Monument, which did nothing for me.  Although I did get a pretty decent photo that I like.  Then I got distracted and instead of heading directly toward the cherry trees while the light still held, I gravitated toward the Lincoln Memorial.

The white buildings against the bright blue sky kinda glowed.  And the Lincoln Memorial was just beautiful.  Course I went up the steps where I watched a toddler climb all the steps on his chubby hands and knees.  I paused a moment to feel the thrum of the stones and to hear Martin's words ring through the Mall again.  Of course the stones remember.  Standing at Abe's feet, that strange urge to bawl again.  So much so that I can barely read the words on the wall there because they are all wavery.

On the way back, I checked out the WWII memorial.  I know this one is fairly new and it has a bit more relevance as my dad was a WWII vet.  This one took so long to be built that many of the vets were no longer around at its completion.  I don't usually take photos of strangers, but this young woman, of all the crowd was quiet and still.  I liked that.  Perhaps her feet were sore, but I like to think it was more about honoring those that came before.  

And that is the place that took me down.  I was absolutely humbled by such dramatic and beautiful reminders that I live in this incredible social experiment we call the USA.  I am allowed to say what I think, dress how I want, live without fear of being raped or murdered.  I was allowed school, as much as I could hold.  For me Washington, DC is less about government and more about the summation of people who consent to be governed and are represented in the very stones here, those that are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice on my behalf.  The people upon whose shoulders I stand on this beautiful April morning to gawp at cherry blossoms.

Today C is for courage.