
We stayed with family friends in DC. I remember it well as it was the first time I'd ever slept on a cot. A simple thing, yet pressed into the memory of a little girl from Neff Road.
I do not remember the trip to New York when I was a baby. There many other trips while my sisters still lived at home, but only a few stick in my mind. This trip to DC is full of memory for me of riding in the car with my sister, standing by state signs while Mom or Dad snapped a picture. I remember them holding my hands and sitting close to me. Treasures are stored in those memories.
It's as if I can almost hear the laughter of my father, and my mother's coarse voice when I go back to that time. I remember my cousin lifting me up onto his lap at the Jefferson Memorial. Dad stopped at farms on the way so we could see the baby lambs in the fields. We stood among the white headstones at Arlington.
It was a long way from the farm to the capitol. I has been a long time since that trip with my family. A memory triggers a moment it captures in a picture, captured in the scent of military jacket and sight of blossoming trees.
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