Streets were flooded with tourists while I was attempting to flee the city I’ve grown to love for dear life. But if it weren’t for my dad, I would’ve never made it to DC in the first place.
You see, at the ripe age of 18 I was a skeptic who didn’t listen to authority figures – i.e. my parents – so when I got into American University, I thought nothing of it. My dad, on the other hand, thought it was a perfect fit and convinced me to give it a test run.
I didn’t realize it until years later but he was right.
It all goes back a few years earlier when I was 12. My dad had been diagnosed with cardiomiopathy and didn’t know how long he had to live. With an uncertain future looming in the wings, he jump started his life and kicked it into full gear by taking my younger sister and I on separate “daddy-daughter trips”. These trips catered to our greatest interests in life to date – my sister’s being stage productions/all things flashy (aka Broadway) and mine being all things educational (aka The Smithsonian Institution).
My one-week residency in DC was like nothing else. Standing about 4 foot tall or so at the time, the monuments towered over me like an ant in the Amazon. The marble surroundings and atmosphere vibrant with history were enough to make any museum lover feel like the high roller on a craps table in Vegas. And to think – I shared this with the only man who has ever been able to keep up with my stubborn antics. What a lucky gal I am.
So I tear up every time I see the lunar lander at the Air & Space Museum. And I may or may not have an obsession with Old Ebbitt Grill because it’s the first restaurant I ever ate any meal at in DC (and by “may or may not,” I mean that I do). But everywhere I look – whether it’s American’s campus, the National Mall, FBI Headquarters, the White House, or the National Zoo – I see my dad everyday thanks to his genius ability to plan ahead.