Red Truck Road Trip – EAST Coast Team

While taking a moment for myself on the stairs of the Lincoln monument, Hailey Huston, a pretty, pre-teen with long blond, flowing hair, fair skin and freckles, sits to the left of me. Her mother, Holly, is the one who supplied the beautiful skin and golden hair. Holly wears light blue from head toe and her eyes are a deep ocean kissing the shore with experience, wholeness, and sparkle during a sun set. Holly takes a seat on the step above us and Hailey curls up and rests her head on her mama’s knees. Holly runs her fingers through her daughter’s straight hair and they are in a peace. I think of my mother and how I always cuddled up to her comfortably in the same way. They sit silently like most of the “Lincoln stair-resters” reflecting on what they’ve seen and absorbing the impression of the Washington monument.

Amidst this tranquility in faded blue jeans rolled at the cuff and a white tee-shirt, an older brother beckons his younger brother to remain by is side while they wait for their parents to finish the climb to the top. The younger brother half listens and annoys his sibling by jetting in and out of the memorial. The elder picks at his tight yellow curls in frustration and sighs into a seat about five feet away from me. The younger brother returns from the memorial in a dash and asks with a faint Virginian accent, “Why does it say something about onions?” The older brother’s blue eyes roll after he ponders for a second, and then he replies, “It says union.” The younger brother blushes and giggles, “oh.” He returns to read the monument inscriptions while the older brother waves to their parents.

Hailey and Holly talk to each other and I detect a Southern draw not native to the D.C. region and this is typical. There are a thousand sounds, dialects and spins on our national language in the capitol. It’s odd how a love for history and travel can bring together strangers, and even if they remain strange, they were still sharing the same space at the same time. For seconds in this world, I connect to all those who reside on these stairs.

A woman to my right picks at her toes. She wears only one brown sandal, the other foot needed to be touched, I suppose. She speaks in Italian to the gentleman whom I believe is her boyfriend. They exchange the glances of young love and total interest. He whispers something in her ear; she continues to pull at her feet, and then hugs him as if he said the most romantic thing in the world.

Then, with a huff and a visible strong-will, a five or six year-old Korean girl stomps up the stairs in the direction of the Italian lovers. Her pink dress and pink ribbon calls for sweetness, but as she scrunches her nose each time she places down her green and pink crock, she reminds me of a “Scout” and I am drawn to watch her. She leads her family in a photo and crosses her arms when her father doesn’t snap the picture fast enough. Due to her impatience, she swats at her grandmother and without words, the grandmother strokes her head to show love. I imagine the grandmother is thinking “my little spit fire.” Then, Grandma watches her future generation pout around as her mother reprimands, and Grandma smiles as if she remembers and is relieved to only be remembering.

Hailey turns to me and I want to know her perspective of seeing these monuments. So I ask her, “What’s your favorite memorial?” She tells me that she likes the Lincoln. Then her mother, Holly, says, “If it weren’t for Lincoln hanging tough, we wouldn’t be here today. He made us stay together.”

I ask Holly a few questions about her visit and she tells me that this is a repeat visit to D.C. for her, but a first visit for her children. “The memorials are same. This time I’m taking the time to read a lot more.”

I asked Holly about how they arrived to D.C. and she tells me that she is from Texas and they took a road trip. She advises me on a drive to take from Memphis to New Orleans and then I ask her, “Why do you like to do a road trip?”

“You need to get out and see the world. I’d much rather drive, relax and enjoy.” The last time she was in the area, she flew. Holly said, “I didn’t know what was in between.”

Then, Hailey told me about some great outlet shopping. I got excited for a moment, because as my bank account knows, I like to shop. But I remember the guys and didn’t think that we would make time for that stop. Holly, Hailey, and I continue to talk about travel, history and life. The sun set during our conversation and internally I marvel at what I had seen; historically and currently, both of these impressions were a true value. The Lincoln steps really gave me more than just a rest.