Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief

Movement

The cab drove me through the streets of DC, I watched the passing monuments; the Washington, World War II, the National Library. We stopped in the middle of the road while a police car blocked the intersection.

“I could find another way Miss,” he said.

A minivan pulled in behind us, “I think we might be stuck for a while.”

So we waited.

“Someone important, perhaps the President!” he said.

I craned around to see more (eager tourist!) but could only make out the waving flags. We waited, the driver sighed deeply.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Well move, we’re only here for a little bit.”

Five minutes later, the police car let us through.

We pull up to Connecticut Street and I step out in front of the Mayflower Renaissance. “Do you take American Express?” I ask and flashed him my card. My bags were gone, whisked away by a speedy valet.

I walked through the brass doors and note the pictures on the wall, Kennedy and Jackie O, Roosevelt, Reagan.

Really, I think, who do you think you are?

Not quite sure……but if I am not quite sure, this isn’t a bad place to be not-quite-sure-in.

I am directed to the 10th floor and look for my room….1015.

I am greeted by five Secret Security guards installing something in a chandelier. They look at me suspiciously as I turn the corner.

It’s okay guys, I got it, I’m supposed to be here.

At the end of the hall I am greeted by a huge black door and a silver sign the reads ‘Presidential Suite’

Hmmmm….

I glance at my room number and realize that I read the card wrong…..1051 not 1015 and I sheepishly turn back around past the Secret Service people.

They smirk…..yeah you think you’re important but you’re not Presidential Suite important. You turn right back around there Missy.

I talk the talk, whip out the Amex with the greatest of ease, but still trying to walk the walk.

My non-presidential room is still lovely; stocked with flowers, Aveda products and a view of the city. I decide that if I have to work through the afternoon, a room service lunch would be fitting.

Before I left for DC, I dropped off food for one of our Supermom families. Samantha’s friend, Monster Max was in the PICU with a nasty virus.

Two worlds, both of which I am trying to find my place- moving through each, stopping, waiting, adjusting, ordering room service, moving to the next step, wondering what the next step will be……movement.

2 thoughts on “Movement”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s