After our quick rest-up in FL, the journey continued on. We piled back into a progressively messier Tanny and headed north to Virginia. It was my turn to run us around my childhood home and university town. Flexibility and adaptation were the names of the game during this leg of our trip as we continued to deepen our connections with each other (and our country).
The Beach and the ‘Burg
The first piece of this adventure found us in Virginia Beach, where we climbed Mt. Trashmore before the boys got faces full of crashing waves and I gave Meagan an anxiety attack swimming out to sea. From the beach we made our way up to Williamsburg, where we tested our gentle parenting skills over a lost shoe and mediated as our kids racked up an understanding of America’s painful and racist colonial past. I also jumped into a pool before checking my pocket for my phone, which was unable to be resuscitated by a bag of rice. But mostly we had fun—we kayaked, caught frogs in the forest, communed with sheep, and most importantly, were ultra-present.
It was an odd experience, seeing the places I had called home for most of my life…still existing…still more or less the same…but I wasn’t there anymore. My life had taken me in so many different directions; yet, here we were. My people, in my ‘home’, and it felt beautiful. Like everything had come full circle.
Of Pies and Plans
Next, we were on our way to the much-anticipated Washington D.C. If there was a more perfect place for me, I don’t think I’ve found it yet. In all our excitement we rattled towards the nation’s capital to find ourselves learning what adaptation really meant. I’m a planner. I like to plan. Things are better when they fall into the plan and don’t get minds of their own–D.C. laughed at this idea and pushed me right into my learning zone; but man was it fun.
Not only did we find out our accommodations were canceled hours before we arrived; but, on our frantic and hurried way to our last-minute hotel, I had my heart set on Mom’s Apple Pie in Occoquan and we weren’t going to make it. “But it’s on the itinerary! That’s why we came this way!” I huffed as the GPS said we wouldn’t make it there before closing, and I could feel the trip beginning to wear on me. I wasn’t just bummed, but I was also tired of adapting. I was exhausted from having to “go with the flow” and was ready to just eat my bodyweight in pie and call it a day; but we all know that’s not how the universe works. Has one really made progress and grown without the realest of tests?
As we saw the traffic jam, Meagan could feel my disappointment. She is a “glass is half full and there’s room for even more” kind of person, so she called the store and gave them our sob story, even asking if they would be willing to take payment over the phone and put the pie on the front porch. The young shopkeepers were so full of kindness and a gentle tone—they made us promise not to speed and that they would stay as long as it took us to get there (which was only 6 minutes by the time we rolled up…but still 6 minutes past when they normally lock the doors). It was beautiful. We all grabbed a treat and the world was well again. After all was said and done, it was like a smack in the face reminding us that just because things don’t go as planned, stretching out of one’s comfort zone and utilizing some borrowed strength when needed can go a long way.
Walking Washington
Once we made it to D.C. with bellies full of pie crumbles and whoopie pies (and after a few GPS run-arounds), we were in heaven. I’ve always known my heart had a soft spot for the city; but Meagan and the boys had never felt it. Our new hotel was not bad and conveniently located in Rosslyn, right across the river from Georgetown. After a solid night’s sleep, we were off to explore the city on foot, plan in hand. I knew all of the places I wanted Meagan and the boys to see–every park, cathedral, museum, and restaurant. There wouldn’t have to be more adapting this time. No way. (Or so I thought!)
Of course, we visited all the sites every American has seen countless times in shows and movies; but the real treasures—go figure—were the moments in which we were crumbling onto a bench at sunset because we couldn’t handle walking another step; or a brief conversation with Virginia Ali on our way to a bathroom break at Ben’s Chili Bowl; or free steamed crab at the Wharf and Indian-inspired pizza at Curry & Pie when we couldn’t make up our minds. And during all of our walking Meagan and I got to pair off at different times with different boys, developing our relationships (and our stamina). Some moments were difficult. Some were frustrating and anxiety-inducing; yet they were the fullest moments and the memories that have lasted.
Magic Moments in Philly
Our next stop was Philadelphia, where we ran the “Rocky steps” and made the trek to Jim’s for cheesesteaks. But the moment that sticks out most to me was the Magic Gardens. We’ve been to more art museums than I can count, always filled with “Don’t touch that!” and “You can’t sit there!”, but the Magic Gardens were a whole other ballgame. What. A. Trip! You could hear the stories as you made your way through the eclectic mixed-media art and revitalization project. The mosaics told so many stories of loss, rebirth, power and lack thereof, struggle, passion, and most importantly, change. There were these little pieces of mirror pressed into the mosaics and the whole place glittered. Every which way you looked there were tiny slivers of yourself looking back at you. Asking you to see everything from a new perspective. To find the beauty and the things that need not be perfect to be enough; to be worthy of existing. We didn’t want to leave, but our beds, and a trip to Reading Terminal Market the next morning, were beckoning.
We had been working on adaptation as a family, but what we experienced at Reading Terminal Market was a great example of harmony and space for everyone on a large scale. It was like a reflection of what we are aiming for in this world–as people, parents, and educators. In this one historical building, the oldest market in Philly houses the most diverse collection of foods and people I’ve ever experienced. From traditional Amish confections to Umi Seafood and Sushi, the place was bustling with all different people from all different walks. Was this visit planned? Yes. Did we plan to go with the flow as we arrived? Yes. Did we know exactly what it would look like? No. It was artistic and chaotic. It was overwhelming and perfectly in sync. It was an activation and complete takeover of all of the senses. It was magnificent.
Adapting to Adaptation
Once we finally got food for everyone, we had so many different corners of the human experience represented as we sat outside in the drizzle and shared bite for bite. It was proof. Proof that there is space for everyone and space for us to all adapt ourselves enough to see the beauty that all humanity has to offer–stories, food, tradition, beliefs, ways of life.
Adapting is hard. Whether it’s planned moments gone awry, bridging across differences in places that don’t seem so foreign, or simply shifting perspective to understand the mindset of the person next to you on the train. It’s never not hard. But it’s always worth it.
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