Tag Archive for arlington

Orange line, overheard or “We have another 10 weeks of this?”

Yes, this is an actual conversation I heard on the Orange Line towards New Carrolton. Ah, Washington in the summer… bring on the interns and the summer associates. Some towns have sports talk. We have this (transcribed as closely as I could write on the back of an Express newspaper from my nearby seat)

Obvious summer associate 1 (let’s call him L1): The Harvard girl… how old is she?

L2 (yep, another one. I know, in DC. What are the odds?): 30 something.

—LONG PAUSE WHILE L1 AND L2 PONDER HOW OLD HARVARD GIRL IS. IT ALMOST DEFIES EXPLANATION! —

L2: She took some time off. [me and L1, thinking, “ahh. that explains it.”

L2: To work for the Cheneys.

L1: What??

L2: She took some time off, to work for the Cheneys.

L1 (and me):     !

L2 repeats again.

L1: Really?

L2: Yes. On a Project.

L1: (smirking) which was…. Read the rest of this entry »

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Home (the REAL home post)

The real reason I’ve been thinking about home is that I might be leaving this one soon. This one, being downtown, “THE city” (sorry, nyc), my hipster dupont city girl pad, my newly-divorced-to-single woman pad.

And, to top it off, I might be moving to … Northern Virginia, land of my constant mockery lo these many months! Oh the horror!

But the thing is, ultimately, home is “who”. Home is who you love, where you love, and cliche’ or not, home is where the heart is. Absent “blue pearl” granite even, home is where my love is, where we both can be, and where we can be together. Home is love and I have found it.

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Home II

I hold my niece against my chest, tight. She laughs – her eyes sparkling with her laugh. She shrieks with glee rolling over my leg, my arm, my fingers on my sister’s soft bed. “Hava” says E, my niece.

“Ba” I say.

“Ma ma mama ba, hava?”

“ka la” I answer.

She giggles, throwing her head back, pleased with the answer. She pulls herself up on the footboard pointing excitedly at the window “DA! BA!!!”

“Yes! Window! Sun!” I say, wanting desperately to know what she is trying to tell me. She seems to forgive my ignorance, choosing to plunk herself back on the bed and laugh and laugh and laugh. And then, she scrunches up in a ball, butt up in the air, closing her eyes, murmuring, giggling, singing, “hava? bama?”

I scoop her up, put her in her soft onesie p.j, sing her a song, rub her tummy, while she slurps down her milk and coos. I cover her in her pink knit blanket. i tell her I love her, more than anything, in the whole wide world, kiss her cheek, and tiptoe out.

I am not home. But I am home.

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