You are the warp and woof of my cloth. My childhood was woven from my parents' stories of the 1968 riots when DC grieved and raged after the assassination of MLK Jr, of the segregated schools from my mother's childhood that had been silently tidied away, or the excitement of driving through the fords in Rock Creek. DC child with the rather murky waters of Rock Creek flowing through my veins. Racing around the Cathedral gardens and the Natural History Museum rotunda. Visiting the elephants and pandas at the National Zoo. Ice cream and movies on the Avenue.
DC, you are me and I love you.