I love to visit a big city. I love the vitality and the intensity, but I also appreciate my little town when I come to the big city. A big city can emphasize how small we really are. It is easy to get lost in a big city. Lost can mean needing to ask for directions or buying a map. Lost can mean invisible and unseen, disconnected and anonymous. I have watched the people of this city riding the Metro to and from work, their earbuds firmly planted in their ears, scrolling through their hand held devices reading or texting. They look through everyone around them as if they ride alone. To me, it seems that they are alone. Maybe I cannot see the richness of their worlds. Maybe they have lovely apartments or lofts, filled with comforts and personal treasures, pets they adore and books they cherish. Maybe their window sills and balconies have pots of herbs and daffodils and they have families or friends with whom they break bread when the day is done. Maybe I cannot understand the pace of city living because I am not acclimated. Does one adjust to the pace? Or, does one carve out a pocket that slows the pace?

Traveling with the boys means we must learn to be adaptable. It has been wonderful to listen to Cameron argue with me about directions. He is finding his own voice. He reads the maps and observes the surroundings and speaks his mind as to how to get from Point A to Point B. He has walked ahead of me and Evan, a determined focus to his gait. The boys agreed to be more adventurous and eat outside of their comfort zone. For Cameron, this meant a beef entree at Zola’s and for Evan it meant french fries made from Yukon gold potatoes instead of regular Idahos. Fortunately, even fancy restaurants have ketchup. I gave Evan the camera and he has a natural eye for things. His pictures speak for themselves. I frame this as him feeding himself in a different way; being adventurous in a whole new level.

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