I had time to kill (because, you know, I have no friends anymore and stuff), so I wandered through Rose Park, a place I'd never really explored before, even though the Barlow is basically across the street.
It was 6 p.m. Old park bench, tall elm trees, brick sidewalks. The sun was slanting through the trees, making everything look ethereal as it tends to do in those whimsical evening hours. I was reminded of the movie "Tree of Life." A lot of things around here remind me of that movie, for some reason.
I stopped by Trader Joe's on the way to the metro. I've come to realize that I cannot live without Trader Joe's. We went to a regular grocery store the other day and I hated it. I've been forever converted.
I told Aaron, the friendly man at the cash register, that I'd moved up to Bethesda and he said, "So you're going to carry this all the way to Dupont?"
I balked at the thought. "Dupont with all these groceries?! No, I'll go to Foggy Bottom and switch lines."
So I walked to Foggy Bottom, intending to switch lines.
Except there was a major train delay, so my plan failed. I can only stand in a dark tunnel with a giant bag of groceries, a heavy lap-top bag, and a rumbling stomach, waiting for a train to come, for so long before I start to crave the fresh air of the outside world.
So I slipped out of a broken fare gate and walked the mile to Dupont to catch the red line.
As I walked, hugging my bag of groceries to my stomach, I thought about how I could/should be having a meltdown right now, but for some reason I wasn't. I thought about how I should be frustrated, impatient, and irritated, but for some reason I wasn't.
I thought about how the soft, scared parts of me are turning to stone. I know the city well enough now that I can improvise when things go wrong, but not so well that I don't get a measure of satisfaction out of solving my own simple problems. Yay! I can carry my big bag of groceries and my heavy lap-top bag a mile across the city to the next metro station without getting lost or having a meltdown!
I'm grateful to have hardened enough to overcome my fears of the city, but I hope the hardening doesn't hit my heart. I hope I always appreciate the sunsets through the city scape, the friendly people at FedEx and in the metro tunnel, and the opportunity for impromptu walks. I hope I never get annoyed when people ask me for directions. I hope I never think I'm too good for a dinner of granola bars and pita chips. I hope I always smile and wave to the babies on the metro. I hope I will always be positive and friendly even after a long day and a sore back. I hope the city doesn't run me down, like it seems to have done to so many others here.
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