On Friday afternoon, on my way to drop off my case files to my new lawyer, I had to take a big detour to my previous lawyer’s office because he forgot to give me all of the files when I went there the day before, I realized that I forgot my cell phone at school. I had to go back, since it’s my only phone, as in I don’t have a landline.
On my way back out again I spoke to both of my daughters since both of them wanted me—in similar but conflicting ways. Older daughter wanted me for my car so she could hang out with a friend. Younger daughter wanted me as a driver to pick up her and her friend from their Friday night movie and hanging out. I managed to reconcile both of their demands, satisfying both of them, but not enough to make them feel that it was a win-win situation (which they probably didn’t want anyway), and not enough for me to feel successful and skillful.
On my way from old lawyer’s office I discovered that the directions that I printed off from Google Map were very precise, except the name of a street seemed to have been changed from the minute I printed out the directions two hours before to then. But I managed to figure out THEIR mistake and find my way to the road I needed, a feat I was very proud of. Just as I realized that I had made it and it was smooth sailing to new lawyer’s office, I looked to my right and saw the Iwo Jima Memorial looming very, very large. Through the trees I could make out the huge statue and I even managed a bit of rubber-necking to look at it from different angles.
As I drove along the George Washington Parkway I also passed and saw the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Jefferson Monument. I even saw some cherry blossom trees already blossoming in preparation for the Cherry Blossom Festival that starts next weekend. There’s something special about living near important sites or monuments that makes you feel a sense of pride for nothing other than having that thing or place in your life. Its proximity somehow embraces you and raises you up ever so slightly from the doldrums of your life and puts you, even momentarily, into an historical perspective.
Are there places where you live that make you feel a part of history?