Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief


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’


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”

  1. It is your world, you fit beautifully in it, no matter where your feet take you. Thank you for bringing food, and chocolate, and flowers. You made it all better.


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