The weekend before Halloween I traveled to D.C. to visit my mom and one of my best friends, Beth. I took an overnight train from Toledo and though I froze and slept poorly during the dark hours, I was rewarded for my discomfort in the morning.
As my eyes peeped open at dawn, I saw a burnished gray ribbon of water, steel cliffs, and silvery fog. This was Pennsylvania, and I hardly stopped looking out the window for the rest of the ride.
Soon the steely morning turned pinkish-orange. The fire of the autumn leaves popped on the dark hills and even the fog took on the colors of the sunrise. The fog was like those wispy, blush-saturated "heaven" clouds sinking down to earth.
I finally tore my eyes away from the window to go to the club car to buy some tea; lo-and-behold I saw an Amish woman and her son! The boy looked about twelve and wore brown linen pants, a button-down white shirt, and suspenders. His mom wore a bright blue dress with a full skirt and a handkerchief tied around her hair. Both wore black shoes with laces. The woman was beautiful: tall with an angular face, blond, and with blue eyes that matched her dress. I didn't know the Amish rode trains--or bought snacks from club cars--and I wondered what they though of all the passengers who were obviously shocked (well, I was shocked), but pretending not to be. The woman wore a beatific/bemused smile; I don't think she cared.
Once in D.C. I made my way by metro to my mom's condo, saw her briefly, then ate about half the food in her refrigerator and took a nap. That evening we went to a Socialist meeting hosted by her friends. My mind was blown learning that Libya scored extremely high on the human rights index by paying for education, housing, legal fees, and car payments for its citizens. I mean, it's not like I trust the U.S. government or the New York Times to paint an objective picture of anything, let alone Libya, but to learn actual facts that counter their starkly-painted national picture was illuminating. Not that it's all peaches in Libya, but in terms of providing its citizens with economic resources, the U.S. could learn something from this nemesis government.
The next morning I was reunited with Beth and she and my mom drove to Baltimore to visit one of our favorite museums, The Visionary Art Museum. I'm pretty sure Beth was duly impressed. After a delicious Thai lunch, we drove back to D.C. in the snow! Specifically, I drove back in the snow. D.C. was one of those east coast cities that experienced a freak snowstorm in October. The air, trees, and blacktop of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway was hushed in white.
After some boot shopping (thank you, Mom, for my early Christmas present!), Beth and I ate dinner at one of my favorite D.C. restaurants, Kramerbooks and Afterwords Cafe. Both laughter and tears were shared and I pushed away the though that, so far, there isn't a Beth-like person in my life in Ohio, yet.
The weekend went awry the next morning when Amtrak called to inform me that my return ticket to Toledo was indefinitely put on hold due to a mud slide colliding with a freight train. I had to be in Bowling Green the next day for a minor surgery/stitches situation, so after some quick finangling, I rented a car, said goodbye to Mom and Beth, and was driving through Maryland.
Now, I've become a bit of a wimp when it comes to driving long distances. My dad and Javier did most of the driving this summer when headed to Ohio. I also miscalculated the amount of time I would be on Interstate 80. I thought I'd be driving for ten hours and would have to stop at a hotel before reaching BG. No so. Not only did I make it back to BG in less than eight hours, I had a good time. Well, as good a time as one can have driving alone. Again, the view was gorgeous as I wound my way through the hills--some still snowy--of Maryland and Pennsylvania, singing to Top 40 radio hits and to the Dixie Chick's version of "Landslide" about a million times.
And then I was able to curl up with my boo and dog and go to bed.
