AC/DC

It’s not often that I miss Washington, DC. But there are days that I miss so many strange things about it.

A large portion of my job is implementation of a program that brings a group of mayors and nonprofit leaders to DC. I love the program because it keeps me close to my small town roots while also keeping me close to a city that I once loved so deeply.

I’ve been in “the District” since Sunday, and with the exception of one Thanksgiving with friends in DC, I haven’t been back since Dave and I left for Arkansas.

During the past three days that I’ve been here, I’ve seen so many people that I’ve missed for so long. The strange thing is that I didn’t expect to miss the city as much as I do.

Please don’t get me wrong. I love our life in Little Rock. I love where we are. And I can’t begin to describe how much I love my job.

But, unlike Dave, I often miss DC. I miss walking to the grocery store. I miss taking the Metro to wherever it is that I need to go. I miss the connection with the people I met while in the city, because it’s a different connection than I’ve ever had before. We’re connected in a way that can’t be put together in any other situation. We’re closer because we’ve been through so many heart wrenching times together. We made it through September 11, 2001. We made it through anthrax scares and Q-tips pushed up our noses to be sure we weren't infected. We walked through some of the most frightening times of our lives. And we did it together. It's a strange feeling to be back, seeing so many people, yet being so far away from them every day.

The strangest feeling of all—aside from walking down streets I once knew so privately, but now can’t seem to navigate—is the overwhelming feeling of sadness that overcame me as we drove down the street that last led me out of DC.

I almost felt like tears were welling in my eyes when we drove down Constitution Avenue, passing 14 Street, merging onto 395. I don’t know why. But for some reason the same feeling that came over me the day I drove down those streets with all my possessions in a Budget truck--almost three years ago--came flooding back to me. The feeling in my throat was just as real as the day we left.

I guess I just love this city. It was my first home. The first home I made for myself. The place I met the love of my life. The place I met some of my closest, dearest friends. And today I felt, just by crossing a river, that I was leaving them again.

I do love this place. It made me who I am. It made me the strong woman that I am today. And I will always love this city for being a little bit, if not a lot, of me.
L.