Missing My Hometown -Missing My Hometown
In the midst of this pandemic, there is a noticeable change in downtown DC. I am sure this is happening everywhere. I have to ask…what happened to our familiar?
The end of my workday was usually filled with thoughts of getting through traffic to get home. Note I say was. Now it seems there are days when the workday doesn't end. Working remotely has me reading each and EVERY email that would normally be instantly filed for “later”. Now I actually purge as I go along — which is not a bad thing. However as much as I hate to admit it, I miss my commute..as well as the backlog of emails that need to be deleted.
The commute was more than just an exercise of patience. It was the opportunity to hear the sounds of my hometown. A chance to see all of the different ways that our Nations Capital is utilized by residents, as well as tourists. Visions of full sidewalks are now a memory.
Normally between 5–6 pm, there would be jaywalkers, daring one to get too close with a car. The Fed Ex truck double-parked causing immediate plans to pause and quickly merge is a mere memory. Skateboarders would be everywhere and bikers would race those in cars, just for fun. The CIty was colorfully alive!
As I drive along hoping, looking, listening for my familiar sights and sounds, there is an eerie calm of sorts. The sporadic sounds of a car or truck here and there pierces the still in the air. It is almost as if the City is holding her breath. No more sounds of children laughing or crying when forced to sit in the stroller. The sounds of the skateboards rolling on the sidewalks are missing.
Oddly enough, I even noticed that there are more homeless residents along the streets and in the doorways of boarded up or empty buildings. This is not the DC I am native to and Love.
As a gardener, one thing I sincerely miss is going to the United States Botanic Garden to just breathe at the end of the day. The gates are still locked for those truly intimate, off the beaten path nooks. On the upside, all of the exterior benches are usually full of others just stepping back from the rat race. I miss the liveliness, the creatively colorful people, the familiar cars seen during the daily commute…and pausing to be in the garden on my way home.
When will the sounds of the City return? I wonder when will a comfortable level of life as we knew it returns? All of these thoughts occurred to me when I ventured outside for a breath of air. It instantly hit me that there was something missing. At one time, there was a familiar presence outside Metro Center.
If I needed a pick me up, filler for a last-minute bouquet, or a few flowers to take home for the weekend, he was there. Cornbread was his name. On sunny days, he was on the side of the street setting up his flower stand. On rainy days he positioned himself so when you got off the Metro, you had a resource for an umbrella…and flowers. Even when there were special occasions, Cornbread was there to sell t-shirts, with the flowers, of course. Greeting me with a “Hello Dahling”, cigarette hanging from his lips, I listened to the stories of this fascinating elderly gentleman. I often lectured him about smoking. It was an amicable exchange of the day's issues, as well as my concerns. I admit, sometimes I did not need the armloads of flowers on Fridays. However, that $6.00 spent on a mixed bouquet was worth every memory. Cornbread has been the beginning of the weekend smile for the past ten years or more.
In one of the most dismal weeks of this pandemic, as the numbers continue to rise, election tension rising, and another season is missed at the USBG, I miss my DC.
I truly miss Cornbread and the simple joy he brought to Metro Center. Even in the midst of the madness, the DC flower vendors offered the gift of a bouquet and conversation.
As I reminisce about what used to be, a song comes to mind, Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
Where is my DC…
