After an (almost) sleepless night and attempting--unsuccessfully--to shove half of my wardrobe into one suitcase, I bid my parents goodbye on the curb at the Salt Lake airport--guitar in hand--and boarded the plane. It could have been because the man next to me took up more than his fair share of elbow room. It could have been because I was sitting in an emergency exit and didn't have a small television screen to entertain me. Or maybe it was just that I have been looking forward to this day for 9 months. At any rate, the flight seemed way too long, and when I glanced out my window as we descended through the white cotton candy clouds, I saw the mall--the capitol, the Washington Monument, and the Lincoln Memorial--all bright and gleaming in the afternoon sun. The plane flew in low over the Potomac before landing, and as I peered out at the patchwork of colorful townhomes that lined the river and saw the sailboats drifting in the breeze, a huge smile spread across my face that I just couldn't suppress.
That smile remained on my face as I got off the plane, trying to somehow carry my guitar case with my two fifty-plus-pound-bags of luggage to the curb.
That smile remained on my face as I drove around the city with my mom's old roommate, Alice, who drove me past the Arlington National Cemetery, the Lincoln Memorial, and to dinner at a delicious restaurant for dinner.
That smile remained on my face as I arrived at the Barlow Center, my home for the next few months, and as I took a tour around its hallways that are all-too-reminiscent of a stake center.
And that smile almost turned into tears when my best friend, Heidi, who was here just a few weeks ago at the Barlow Center, left me a letter, a framed picture, and a really nice gift in my room. It felt so nice to feel loved even on the other side of the country.
After unpacking and meeting my new roomie, I ventured out into the nightlife of Georgetown with my friend, Kyle. The evening was warm and colorful, and showed no hint that the end of summer grows near. The crowds of college students and Washington natives buzzed with animation and enthusiasm, and the ice cream shops tempted us with the smell of sweet cream and chocolate. There were sidewalk cafés of all sorts--Thai, Vietnamese, Spanish tapas, Chicago-style pizza--we saw it all. I couldn't get enough of the scene. It was all so new and so appealing.
We spent over an hour and a half in Barnes and Noble. I spent about 20 minutes in front of an entire wall of different journals. I already filled up my Jerusalem journal, and I have to pick the perfect one for my memoirs of this fall. It was a difficult decision--it had to be small enough to fit comfortably in all of my purses, but big enough and thick enough that I wouldn't run out of space in my four months here. In the end I decided to postpone the decision, and Kyle and I roamed through the rest of the bookstore, entranced with the three levels of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Recipe books, travel books, photography books, children's books, fiction books, design books, and current affairs books--I wanted to look at them all. I've decided Barnes and Noble will be one of my haunts while here this fall. Fortunately for me, they're open till 11.
Despite my wonderment at the array of books and the metropolitan life, my eyelids grew heavy and my aching feet begged for me to return home. So I reluctantly returned to my new home and my new room. We have to meet for church somewhat early in the morning, and despite the late hour and my fatigue, I can't seem to make myself go to bed. Maybe I'm worried that I will wake up and it will all be too good to be true.
At least one thing is for sure: I was meant for DC this fall. I love everything about this new place and what I have to learn from it.
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