All those years in elementary school, I read about Washington DC, the capital of our country. Seeing pictures of the White House in my books and in the news, I knew what to expect as my plane left for the capital. My parents were excited to show my brother and I the heart of this country where policies are made. My dad works for the VA so he feels connected to the government as he proudly takes care of our veterans. I helped my mom pack our bags as we left for O’Hare, it was the summer before my 4th grade. I did not know what to expect, all I knew was the photos in my mind of the White House. I had high hopes of seeing someone famous, even wanting to bump into President Obama. However after I arrived in Maryland, I was pleasantly surprised to see so much more and not just see the White House at a distance.

If I could choose two words to describe my trip in Washington DC, it would be “museums” and “memorials”. As soon as we arrived at the hotel, we dropped off our luggage and immediately headed outside to tour the city. The streets were full with so many food trucks that I wondered if fast food is the norm here. These trucks varied from tacos trucks to ice cream trucks. The ice cream was colorful swirls of various flavors, my favorite was the chocolate swirled ice cream cone. Walking the grass plot called “the Mall”, I was confused that my dad called it this when there were no stores. As we continued our walk, one by one the next 3 days were filled with museums-all free in this state, and memorials clustered into the city.

There he was, standing tall at the entry point, showing his mighty and big fury body to the  world, the mammoth at the History Museum. I stared at him, straining my 9 year old neck, surprised by his size. As we walked through this museum, I came across so many interesting exhibits. My favorite exhibit was the skeleton of a shark, with its sharp fangs, the great white shark. Interestingly, I noticed that unlike The Field Museum, this museum was lacking the bones of a dinosaur, disappointing indeed. Collectively known as Smithsonian Museums, there are so many museums in a small space and they are all free. Another museum we entered was the Airplane Museum where planes from so many different time periods were placed in a large room, some hanging on the ceiling. My favorite part of this museum was going into a simulation cockpit where I went in crazy angles as I imagined being in a WW2 jet. At the National Spy Museum, I imagined being a spy in the simulation round and learned so many facts about being in the FBI. The last museum stop was definitely just as memorable as the first, the Native American Museum. Going floor to floor in this massive building full of curves and impressive architectural structures, I learned more about Native American art and history in 1 hour than in my 4 years in elementary school.

Beside museums, my trip was also filled with visits to the various memorials. Walking up the long stairs to reach Thomas Jefferson memorial was exhausting, but worth the trip. His statue sat in the center and the wall above was engraved with his words. The memorials were all peaceful and reflective, as my family sat in each one, contemplating on the life of the individual to whom the memorial was dedicated. Larger than Jefferson was the Lincoln Memorial. President Lincoln sits on a large marble chair and this is the Memorial on the $5 bill. Lots of stairs to reach the top of his memorial and he had plenty of writings on the marble walls too. The structure of his memorial sits in a marble building full of columns. Some memorials were locations full of fountains and marble stones with engraved information, like Franklin Roosevelt, Martin Luther King and the WW2 Memorial. My parents focused on the importance in history of the various people and soldiers as I walked through these monuments and grounds. 

Heading back home after days full of walking and exploring, I was able to absorb so much of our history. There is so much to do that I know I could go back and learn more, see more. My trip to Washington DC was more than just seeing the White House from a distance, it was immersing myself in the proud history of my country.

Sirens, lights, noise , car alarms, pedestrians, the sun setting did not stop the loud atmosphere I experienced in Chicago. Even at 2am, I would hear pedestrians taking strolls. Living in my tiny condominium, I felt like my home was no different than my daycare. Toys piled up at the corner wall and every socket was sealed for child protection. I remember the child proof gate covering the staircase to the two rooms upstairs. I could hear people walking down the hall, talking at odd hours. The door man was a nice old man, always saluting the residents, in his bright blue uniform. The mailboxes were all lined up at the entrypoint with key holes…so many tiny boxes next to each other. I remember the little pinhole on the door to see who was knocking and the locked glass door that let my parents into our condominium, into Room 404. At Streeterville, the front yard was a tiny plot of grass in front of the windows of the living room. I would take walks with my parents along the river, watching the sunlight bounce off the skyscrapers. I knew that Michigan Avenue was a large street because there was always traffic on the bridge above my strolls.

 

I placed my red, large elmo doll and blue blanket in my suitcase. My brother made sure not to forget any lego sets. I was scared. I did not know what to expect. My mom said we were moving to get closer to grandma. My parents told my brother and I that the truck was coming soon, a large truck to move us to the suburbs. While my brother and I were putting our belongings in open suitcases, my parents were busy with cleaning the place. My dad spent days repainting the walls as my mom deep cleaned the floors. I was leaving my crib, my home to a new world, a new home. I saw piles and piles of brown boxes, each labeled with what was inside. Everyday the boxes only multiplied and the living room soon became full of these boxes. So many changes in that hot summer of 2008. Getting on the highway, I waved goodbye to my old home. It was bittersweet as I was now going into a new realm. The drive was long and I fell asleep in my car seat. When I woke up, I was met by greenery, lots of trees and plots of grass, lots of large back yards and homes in rows against small streets. No high rise buildings blocking the sun, no large streets full of traffic, a new quiet place with space.

My dad pulled up the driveway on our maroon Camry. The house was a nice 3 bedroom tri-level home. The house was built in 1978, a time when split level homes were the most popular. My mom grew up in this same home. When my dad opened the garage, my brother and I ran out of the car through the stairway leading to the office, the mudroom. Taking off our shoes as a family tradition, we ran to the family room, both rooms underground. I saw an old fireplace and new yellow carpet that matched all the rooms of the house. As I climbed upstairs, I immediately walked into the kitchen. My mom reassured me that grandpa bought everything to remodel this home, make it newer, more modern. The living room and dining room both had large windows, decked in new curtains that were set in heavy white material, twisting and turning at the top like U shaped designs. I ran upstairs to claim my room, the room of my uncle while my brother claimed my mom’s old room. I was excited to have my own room for the first time in my life, and so much space. In the large basement I placed all of our toys, which is where my brother and I have spent hours for years. We built a large train set, large lego sets, set up tents, and placed soccer, all inside this underground basement. The laundry room was next door and so was the furnace, in an adjacent room. I remember my parents having to light the furnace with matches when the heating system was down. I grew up in this home, a simple home, a home where memories were flooded for my mom from her upbringing, a place for her to cherish and for me to grow up in. I began my new Kindercare at South Naperville, where grandma would pick me up every day since my mom would finish work late. Then I matriculated in Naper elementary, Washington junior high and Naperville North. Naperville was so different from Chicago, so much quieter at night, a house that was so much bigger and so much more closet space. Of course it was the backyard that was my second favorite place besides the basement. Running around trees and grass, a drastic change from the small plot of a few cubic feet in the city. I will never forget that moment, the moment that I was placed in a completely different environment, the move from the city to the suburbs, a move that I am glad to have made, a move that gave me more space to live and enjoy, a new beginning.