love letter

Over the weekend, we paid a visit to the city. We headed up late Friday evening, drove through a dense rainstorm from Richmond on, and finally (finally) arrived in the city.

When you come into Washington from the south, your entrance into the city is very dramatic. Or maybe it just feels that way to us, because we are tied to Washington in rich, complex memories. But before you arrive, you and the frantic traffic climb up a long tree-lined hill together. Then suddenly as you all fly over the hill, there almost seems a tangible pause. And there at your feet, the city is laid out before you - spread out in all its loveliness and city lights and history and limestone monuments and river lines and pulse. Yours for the taking.

I can still remember driving that drive for the first time, sensing a kind of urgency and having the distinct feeling that this: this would be my city. Even though it is not home any longer, it will always be home to a very specific season in my life. And for that reason, I will always love it and feel a little humbled by how much of it there is.

The real reason - the more important reason - for a visit to the city was a visit with friends who are soon making their exit to a quieter, softer life in the midwest. Where crickets outside the window replace late night sirens, and there is never any need to worry for a parking space, and work is only worth the Life it makes possible. At the end of their long drive away from the city, there is a new home with sunlight pouring through the windows on a hushed afternoon. And a sister and brother-in-law a mere walk around the corner. And there is even a baby on the way to make these two newly Three. I moved home myself - to a quieter, softer life, so I understand. There is a season for cities, and there is a season for home.

Walking arm in arm down Connecticut Avenue with my very very dear friend - we were talking in short-hand, the way you do with someone deeply known. She was so essential to my own season in Washington - but it felt very right sending her off, seeing her through one of her very last Saturdays in Washington. I felt a rush of tenderness - and laid my head on her shoulder on impulse, very full of love for her and for the city. Both.