MAHDI: Clearing the Capitol

The glaring white Capitol building basked under the Washingtonian sunlight as we slowly moved away from the Visitor’s Center entrance. According to a nearby officer, a suspicious package had been detected in the building. Tours and any other visitors would be turned away indefinitely. This was the first time I had really seen a security exercise take place in the area and we waited patiently as the situation was rectified.  Once we finished meandering through the hallowed halls of the Capitol, we ventured deeper into the heart of Washington. Eventually, we found ourselves standing on the National Mall.

I had forgotten what the sun looked like when I looked out toward the long expanse of grass and set my sights on what seemed to be hundreds of kites flying through the air.  This afternoon was the famous Kite Festival that brought out families from all around the area. The almost cloudless blue sky was dotted with a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours as kites drifted further and further up into the stratosphere. These gravity-defying shapes that floated overhead were not the same kites I had remembered as a child. Here were rockets that had circular jets of red which spun in the air and kites shaped as planes with spinning propellers. I watched as adults lined up for ice cream on the street corner and an overexcited child almost hit two women in the head with his red dragon kite dragging haphazardly behind him. A myriad of puppies ran across the grass, grateful that spring had seemingly arrived at last. Yet again I channeled my touristy side as I took dozens of pictures to preserve this moment in time.

In an article published by TIME, the powers of human memory are called under question. Most of us have become aware the memory is not a pure recollection of events in a lifetime; a reality that can seem alarming to most of us upon reflection. Reminiscing about the past has become a foundation for who we are — a cranial comfort in which we can burrow ourselves when we want to remember where we came from. Instead, these recollections serve more as a result of who we’ve become, what we consider important and a development of perception.

Earlier last week, I enter a salon to get my haircut and a middle-aged woman in a full pantsuit greets me. Her own hair is perfectly coiffed, and she has a domineering personality as she questions me about my time in D.C. Before she was a mother and business owner, she worked on Capitol Hill. I watched her grow wistful as she asked me what it was like being an intern this semester, with the rest of my professional life in front of me — the nation’s capital at my disposal. She transformed from business owner to life coach in a split second as she bombarded me with advice and anecdotes while my stylist continued to part my soaked hair and snip the ends. There was no such thing as switching off in this city and I loved it all the more for it.
My mind meanders back to the present and we continue to make our way through the crowded mall. As we walk by, we notice the beginnings of the cherry blossom season begin to emerge, as one tree stands apart with it’s pastel pink flowers hanging from brown branches. A cheesy photo shoot commenced, before we just stood under the tree chatting while other curious visitors tried to get their perfect shot in spite of us monopolizing the space. The Japanese hold cherry blossoms in high esteem — they serve as a symbol of power and hope. Most importantly, the cherry blossoms indicate transience: They come and go without attachment or permanence, much like human memories, which are edited and morphed as circumstance and time changes them.

As April gathers momentum, and the end of my time in Washington looms ever closer, this transience remains in the back of my mind. Soon, I will be saying goodbye to my comfortable work routine in this city. Soon, I’ll be thousands of miles away from the members of Congress in their tailored suits, crazed interns scrambling to meet deadlines and the tranquillity of the cherry blossoms that beckon toward the Washingtonian tidal basin. Soon, I’ll be on a journey to Sydney, Australia for my summer, which will evolve into an adventure of its own. Until then, all I can do is allow all the city to wash over me as I walk through various neighbourhoods and back to my home away from home in Woodley Park. As Easter and the commencement of spring elicit a feeling of new beginnings, I enter the homestretch of my visit. I shall treat this moment as my own new beginning as I watch the blossoms sway under the sun.

Sofiya Mahdi is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences studying abroad in Washington, D.C. She can be reached atsofiya218@gmail.com.