A Walker in the Suburbs

The office is almost cleaned out. The farewells are almost said. My work at Georgetown Law is almost done. So I took the afternoon off to see the Wonder exhibit at the Renwick.

I saw shapes, materials and colors that delighted and amused. Insect art, for example:

Or a 150-year-old cedar, hollowed, re-imagined and reconstituted:

And light everywhere, light touching polyester thread to create an indoor rainbow:

For many years I was paid by the word, so “one picture is worth a thousand words” is not a phrase I like to use. But there are exceptions:

I’m not just leaving a job on Friday; I’m leaving a neighborhood — a lively, jangling, grand and varied neighborhood. A neighborhood where the U. S. Capitol and the city’s  largest homeless shelter are both within strolling distance. A neighborhood of posh eateries and soup kitchens. It’s a place I’ve enjoyed getting to know, so walks to and from Metro are taking on a special poignancy these days.

I trudge up the escalator at Judiciary Square into a jostling, careening space. Crowds of workers move in and out of the courts building. A homeless woman smokes or naps on a stone bench. Express newspaper hawkers call out a cheery good morning.

Across the street is First Trinity Lutheran Church, with a sign advertising its Bible study. A few steps away are the trees and railings where scarves were draped last January 6. There is the light I always try to catch, the one crossing Third Street.

The bridge across the highway offers a sliver view of the Capitol Dome. And then there is the construction site, as workers continue to roof I-395 so they can build a neighborhood on top. I’ll miss seeing the completion of that project.

Soon I’m walking down the alley that leads to my office, a backdoor approach that’s always been my preference. I like slipping into places, like slipping out of them, too.