I love visiting our nation's capitol, but vacationing alone in DC during Cherry Blossom Festival weekend was a mistake. I enjoy the solemnity of our war memorials and presidential monuments, but the one hundred fifty thousand other people crowd every stone construct, filling the Spring green National Mall, and turning the sidewalks into neat rows of movement, like ants marching. They push strollers, they walk dogs, they pause to sip from fountains and rest in the broken shade of the just-budding trees. All of them stop to consult their maps wondering whether they are yet near the Tidal Basin; how much further the Lincoln Memorial might be; whether Constitution Ave is north or south; which way is north; where is the nearest Metro stop. One family is kicking a ball a few yards away from me, another flies kites a few yards further. I see the kite and its trailing pink tail darting up and down. The kid attached to the other end of the line runs beneath it, staring at his toy, careless of the crowd around him. It gets stuck in a tree and now his father is jogging over. He gives it a gentle tug and it is free to fly once more. Their vacation is perfect. The weather couldn't be more pleasant, the cherry trees are pink, and everything, for them, is new and fresh.

I am not jaded-- the wonder of this new Rome hasn't faded even after half-a-dozen visits here over the last 12 years-- but I feel alone. I think all of my previous solo visits have been on not-so-busy days. Cherry Blossom Festival is the second busiest tourist day in Washington, behind only July 4th, and all of these couples and families remind me that I have nobody to chat with as I sit here on this park bench, writing silently to nobody.

I haven't even taken a photo today. Not one. Not because I'm sad about being alone-- I'm not sad about it, just very aware of it. No, it's because the people are in my way. I like my monuments uncluttered. Well, maybe a photo of myself in front of all of these Things To Do While In DC would be nice. I'd like to remember the trip when I'm old. Older. Unfortunately, nobody is here with me to hold the camera and press the button.

I'm coming back to the mall tonight, though. The Jefferson Memorial should be lit up and mirrored in the dark waters of the tidal basin. Maybe the crowd will be thinner.

I'm going to be on my way now.