Spring Fever, DC

I get off the train at the Pentagon City stop, manila envelope in my hand. I’ve taken the day off to wander and was able to finish up something for us while having coffee earlier and was inspired to drop it in the mail for you before getting to the rest of my non-plans for the day. Never gotten off at this station before, there must be a post office around here somewhere, and I’m trying to get my bearings on the escalator. I’m looking past the people for the most part, but some detail pulls my eye towards it. That’s funny, it’s just like yours. Don’t see many of those. In fact it must be yours, since it’s with you and heading down the escalator opposite. Didn’t recognize you at first with your hair up like that ("What’s that supposed to mean?" No, it’s not like that, it looks comfortable and casual. "And awful." You’re quite expert at this game where you talk yourself down in order to fish a compliment out of me you know. Your hair looks good and you with it. "Well, if you insist,... you look 'comfortable and casual' too.' How would you know? You haven’t seen me yet...). I call across to you, but I may as well just mouth your name, 'cause I’m drowned out by your train arriving. I’m too far behind your view for waving to work... maybe if I headed back onto my platform I could catch your eye. The commuters are not as forgiving as they might be as I head back down the up escalator. Geez, nice language. I skitch over the railing to avoid the next wave trying to get on the escalator.
You’ve boarded your train, and stand in the left-side doorway window still not seeing me flailing away (it is a bit early for you to be out and about). Okay, that’s not working, what else?... Fumble for my change purse... the nickel hits the window just as the train starts to move. You look up only barely, but not across. The penny’s got some weird spin on it and misses, arcing wildly. Last chance, jogging on my platform to keep up, let the quarter go and it’s right on target (didn’t think I could do that accurately running to my left: maybe there’s room for me as a backup on your powder puff team). The quarter hits the window hard. You squint, recognize ("Now can I say it? You look 'comfortable and casual'." That’s nice of you to say: I wasn’t expecting to see anybody today. At least I shaved, but I left my hair to my cap -- which fell off somewhere as I ran down the platform: hat head! The outfit’s pretty random too. But let’s get back... "Weren’t you fishing for a compliment?" Thanks, I’ll pick it up.), smile (which I recognize as a compliment, and return), and wave. Wait up! I’m sure you couldn’t hear that, but I tried to exaggerate and maybe you were able to read my lips...
Your waving hand gives the "okay" sign just as you disappear in the tunnel, leaving me with a platform of strangers wondering what my damage is. I retrieve my cap and try not to make eye contact with anyone as I go across to the inbound platform. 3 minutes till the next train. Shrug at the couple people still looking warily at me, which seems to put them off; doubt they’ll sit next to me. Stare down at the platform lights humming what I can remember of 'Downtown Train', interrupted by the track lights finally starting to flash. Linger a moment or two to let everyone else on so I don’t get stuck in the middle of the car.
[Doors closing] and then the train’s starting. Staring at the tunnel walls, I wonder where you’re going this morning. What are you even doing here?... okay, next station: I step out and scan the platform, but I don’t see you anywhere among the crowd of uniforms. Maybe you thought I meant wait for me at your final stop, if you could even understand what I was saying ("I really couldn’t tell. From the moment I went into the tunnel I was trying to figure that out. A stop name? A question? Maybe just a greeting? Maybe not even in English,..."). I guess I’ll just go a few more stops and check. This time I do get caught up with the boarders and end up in the middle of the train. On the opposite track, the outbound train is boarding. Somebody’s waving, so I look up: there you are ("Well, when I couldn’t figure out what you said I decided to try and go back and ask you.") but my train’s announcing [Doors closing] and I’m trapped. Just enough time to scribble on the envelope. I lean over the people sitting to press it to the window: L’Enfant Plaza? You lean over the seat on your side to read it, then laughing with a nod of your head and pointing to the envelope. I wave and wink as my train’s pulling off. I exhale a chuckle of relief, and finally noticing the riders in the seat, offer an embarrassed smile and an apology. They don’t bother to respond and revert to their normal commuting mode as the conductor announces: [Next stop, Arlington Cemetery]. What?! Damn, I ‘m on the Blue Line train. (Is that why you were laughing? "No, that’s nervous laughter that snuck out, rejoicing spotting you on the opposite train -- though if I’d known you were on the Blue Line train..." Yeah, it is a little funny given how the rest of the morning had gone.)
I get off again at Arlington Cemetery -- the sky looks like it’s gonna be clear today and I find a place to wait in the sun. I put my earbuds in to listen to an old playlist. The combination of late night writing, the early start, and the bright sun off the granite makes me pull the brim of my hat further down over my eyes and I lean and doze. What am I even doing? Clearly you’re up early to go somewhere important. I better try and think of something interesting to say while we share a train ride -- if we even manage to catch each other ("Do you really plan out what you’re going to say?" Never successfully. "What’s that supposed to mean?" Either a) I draw a blank, unable to anticipate which of the infinite topics will come up, or, b) I have things I want to say, but they seem to dissolve when we’re together, lost in whatever we’re sharing in the moment. Either way, I don’t seem to find my voice or the words until you arrive. Whatever happens in my head when you’re absent is always less interesting than being present with you in the moments we’re together. "Okay, that’s enough of that. You’re starting to exaggerate." Belabor maybe, but not exaggerate. "No, I meant exaggerate." Yeah, okay. Not much though.) I’ve got today’s story of course, but I’m not sure I’ve got the courage to sit with you when you read it. We’ll think of something to say...
I peek an eye open: one of the two students standing next to me is dancing slightly -- I didn’t realize I had my music turned up so loud. I close my eye again before she can notice me noticing. The train’s here anyway, and it’s back to the Pentagon stop again.
I switch over, again, to the other track and take care to get on the next yellow line train. The seats are all taken now that it’s the height of the morning rush hour, so I lean in the free space next to the doors. I hang on to the pole, close my eyes again and let the train toss me around a bit. Somebody keeps bumping me, but I’m in no mood to care, so I leave my eyes closed and ignore them. Now they’re squeezing in to my space and as the train gets a little rough as it starts under the river they grab the elbow of the arm I’m holding on with. I let out an exasperated breath and open my eyes to you grinning at me, which lights me right up. "You know, you probably shouldn’t fall asleep on the train like that." Hey, maybe I was focusing my psychic powers to make you appear. "It didn’t look very focused." Well, that’s part of the secret isn’t it? Allowing yourself to focus without focusing. "Anyway, you didn’t make me appear, I saw you get on the train and came over on my own. In fact, I think it might have been my powers making you appear. I was just thinking how I was going to find you again when you stepped on the train." ("By the way, earlier just before you were throwing things at me I was wondering what you were doing with your day off." Well, I appreciate your summoning me.) Yeah, it seemed improbable, but I was pretty sure we could figure it out. "How’d you know where I was going?" What d’ya mean? "L’Enfant Plaza. How’d you know I was going to L’Enfant Plaza?" I didn’t know, that’s just where I was thinking of going. Why are you going? "No reason, I was just going to hang around and ignore the work I had planned. Why are you going?" The same, just bumming around. "Want some company?" That seems like you’re looking for a way out: you summoned me remember. "Just trying to make you feel like you had a choice." Well, I don’t want to risk the disdain you save for people who deny themselves the pleasure of your company. Here’s our stop, you’re welcome to keep a hold of my arm... "Oh, sorry, I forgot. You can have it back." Don’t be sorry, either way. Here we are.
Everybody else is in a hurry to get out and off to work in their suits and with their work bags. Our more casual speed makes us stand out like a movie camera trick: everyone else sped up to a near blur in comparison. They fade to sepia tones as our colors brighten. Their expressions unrecognizable, our easy comfortable smiles clearly visible.
The wind blowing down the escalator smells sunny and green with small hints of warmness in its cool. We pause wordless arriving at the top in the sunshine from out of the shade. We stand, stretching a bit, taking a first full breath, and letting each other arrive in the moment with a second, deeper awakening of the day. I open my eyes first; your eyes are still fluttering closed with the sun on your face and dancing in your hair. Then, it’s your turn to open your eyes and turn to me grinning.
Ready? "Yeah. Ready for what?" I was letting you decide. ("You mean you were pretending to let me decide. You gonna give me the pen now, are you?" Okay, so I’ll decide, but if you think you’re ready to hold the pen again I’d happily oblige. "Not right now, okay?" That’s cool, I’ve got plenty ideas of my own for today. "Let me pretend to be surprised.") "I’m taking the day off from being in charge." I hear that. Stick with me today and I’ll make sure you don’t have to be responsible for anything. Come on then: let’s head for the mall, I know about a thousand different ways to futz a day away there.
To start, we can drift around the sculpture garden at the Hirshorn. Let’s play 'Name that Piece'. "I’m not going to know any of them." Me either, and totally not the point. Pick a piece and decide what it ought to be named, then if we can figure out what the name really is we see if we came close at all. Here’s a cheat: if you can’t come up with anything, Untitled #5 is often a good guess. How about that one first? "Great Big Cube?" Hard to sell that, how about 'The Eight Sides of Chance'? "Hard to swallow that." Well, look here, it’s actually called Great Big Cube. "Get out!" (April Fools! "What are you talking about, that was weeks ago." You mean, when this was supposed to be done and up? "Yeah, you seem to be missing the mark each time." I think I might finally be shaking off the winter sluggishness and back in the rhythm again. So anyway, April Fools! "That’s just fine.") I always liked the big sphere with the chunk taken out of it, and the dog in the piece with the guy walking thru the door always makes me laugh. Plus who is that anyway, Han Solo. "Now you’re just geeking it." Yep. "This one looks like the wind." We should bring your kite back and add it. "What makes you think the Hirshorn can afford to buy that kite from me?" Well, that’d end your money worries for a while. "Okay, here’s a rule for the rest of today -- no bringing up sources of real world anxiety, I’m supposed to be escaping those today. Otherwise I might as well go back home and work on my place." Sorry, I should’ve been more careful: forgive me? "I’ll take it under advisement." Come on around here to the garden’s own reflecting pool; we can use the bench to practice sitting quietly. "Did you empty your change purse throwing coins at me in the subway?" No, I’ve got some change left. "Got a penny for me?" At least: here. "Got another one for you?" Yeah, what’re you up to? "Make a wish." You close your eyes for a moment and toss your penny way up in the air to fall near the center of the pool. I close mine to seek a wish, find one easily, and try to skip my penny on the pool. It manages 3 or 4 skips and dives in the far end. You’ll let me know if your wish comes true won’t you? "Sure, if you promise to let me know about yours." It’s a promise.
Got any notepaper or post-it’s in your bag? Anything square? "These." Perfect, let’s go sailing --you know how to make a paper boat? "Sure, you?" I used to, I’m sure you could coach me through it. "Here’s your paper." What happens first? "Just do as I do." Yeah, this is feeling familiar. We make a dozen or so boats and let the regatta set off on the pool. "Did I ever tell you my sailing story?" No, only alluded to being seasick and your unwillingness to go without me in water where you can’t see the bottom. "I don’t know about that last bit." Okay then, tell me your sailing story...
Our fleet is quite waterlogged and ready to be rounded up when you’re done telling your story. Maybe we should move on to the next item of the day? "What’s that?" Not completely sure, but let’s start walking. You’ll have to let me bring snowman back out here and take his picture in the middle of 'Conversation Piece'. Do something silly with me? "Maybe. What?" Lie down in the grass with me and look up through the blue Calder. Even with the occasional breeze, the mobile doesn’t move as much as we’d wish. I pluck a few dandelion heads and we make up for our disappointment by watching the blown seeds float and dance on the wind.
Come on then, I need your help with the next thing. We climb the stairs out of the sculpture garden and cut across the mall toward the East Wing of the National Gallery. Once inside, we take a second to wonder if the Calder in the main hall there wouldn’t rather be out in the wind. I doubt we could blow enough to stir it in here. That’s not what we’re here for anyway -- right downstairs for us, and into the tunnel toward the West Wing. A playful mood catches us there and we can’t help playing on the moving walkways: moonwalk, eastbound versus westbound race, moving walkway versus floor race, walking fast off the end of the moving walkway to feel that sudden deceleration and pitch forward when your feet hit the floor, you gliding by aloof on one side while I walk backwards on the other playing for your attention. A few chaperones are torn between feeling we’re a bad influence on their school group and wanting to join in.
Hey, you want a coffee? "That’d be good about now." You find us a good place to sit (where we can watch the fountain spilling from the plaza upstairs down to the underground). I’ll be right back with coffee from the coffee bar here... Latte for you, Americano for me (Sorry, no toffee nut option here. "Did you ask?" Um, no. "Fine." Wait, I’ll go ask... "Stop it, I’m just teasing."), and a fistful of biscotti -- selection of chocolate, almond, and hazelnut. You were right it was a good time for a coffee -- I was starting to drag a bit, and without the coffee the sound of the water would’ve put me right to sleep.
"What was it you needed my help for?" Well, I’ve finally used up all the postcards I had from MOMA, and I’ve got an idea about trying to send a few little notes now and again, I think I need to resupply. ("You could just pick up some of the free postcards from that random rack. Where’d we see that again?" Yeah, those were some headscratchers, I can’t remember where that was. Next time we’re there, I’ll pick some of those up too) I thought you could help me pick out some of your favorites, and I’ll try to help you see what I see in my favorites. "You mean, like what you did with 'The Boating Party'?" Something like that. They’ve got almost every major work of the gallery in postcard form in the gift shop down here. "You want to split that last hazelnut?" Yeah, here.
After we finish our coffees, we split up to wander the card displays separately. "How many were you thinking about getting?" How many were you thinking about receiving? "I’m not sure there are enough here for that." How about for now you find about a dozen, and the rest I’ll pick. Our paths wander apart, and recross, sometimes circling each other, sometimes calling each other to look at a particular card, sometimes one looking up just to spot the other -- catching each other’s eye nearly every time. The one staff person ask each of us twice if they can help us find anything. We both decline each time, you being more friendly; since today we’re managing to find just what we were hoping for. We end up with enough postcards to be able to send little surprises for a while. They need three card-protecting envelopes for the whole batch, even when we’ve eliminated all the duplicates we picked. Which one do you want to get first? "Try to surprise me." I’ll see what I can manage.
We go out through the West Wing so we can wander through some of the main floor galleries, coming downstairs through the Matisse cutouts and finally through the Degas sculptures, particularly the studies of horses and riders. That gives me an idea: you want to go for a horseback ride before lunch? "Yeah, that’d be fun." We go back up to the main level and out the mall entrance of the gallery, heading across the mall towards the castle. "Where are the horseback rides down here?" They start over in front of the castle. "Really?" Yeah.
Calliope music is ringing in the air now. There’s horses, and a zebra, an ostrich, elephant, dragon, plenty of choices. The ride pretty much goes nowhere, and it’s only a few minutes long, but there’s probably no line yet. "Okay, very funny carousel boy." Best I could do, and I thought as my Kalliope of sorts you might not completely hate it. I get a mess of tickets and we ride until we’ve tried each of our favorite animals, have a baseline dizziness, and have the music echoing in our brains ("I liked the lyrics you were coming up with." Well, sure, a little silly maybe... "Can’t help it with that music, and it was a little sweet."), and slightly giddy. That’s enough for me now. Let’s,... I don’t know,... let me get you lunch somewhere? "Not till I let the dizziness fade. Got another idea? Maybe we could just sit somewhere. Didn’t I see a manila envelope in your hand earlier?" Yeah, there’s a story in there. "Where’d you put it?" Snuck it in your bag while we were on the train. Come on, we’ll go sit in the garden by the castle.
We find a comfy bench in the shade, scented by the flowers, and you open your envelope and start to read...