Saturday morning dawned and we woke up from the most comfortable bed on the planet.  (Dear Marriott, You have the best king size beds of all time.  If we could have gotten away with stealing it, we would have.)

Quick breakfast at the hotel and off to meet Dee and Co. at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.  Having met Dee and his family once before in Boston, it was like greeting old friends. 

There's nothing quite like lunch with a six year old child.  While we all ate our lunches, Jake treated us to his take on the Revolutionary War.  And then his feelings on the Civil War.  And the Egyptian pharaohs.  The concepts spilling from this little boy were nothing short of brilliant.  He knew everything.  I watched as Chris stopped chewing for a few minutes and just stared at Jake, wondering how all this information fit into such a tiny kid.  Pausing only to help count the carbs in the Doritos for Bailey, Jake was the best historical tour guide in the city.

After making our plans to meet up for the walk tomorrow, Chris and I broke off from the Herman's and made our way through the museums. 

Neither of us has been to D.C. since high school field trips, so this sojourn back to Washington marked our First Adult-ish Adventure.  Walking through the museums, I came across a number of poignant images of tragedies and triumphs from the past:  WWI, WWI, Vietnam, the atom bomb, an exhibit dedicated to the eugenics movement, the inaugural gowns of the First Ladies, the ruby red slippers from The Wizard of Oz, the original Kermit the Frog, and the first bottle of synthetic insulin ever developed.

The museum was almost silent, despite the dozens of people moving in the rooms around me.  I walked into a room that was dimly lit, save for a spotlight on two enormous steel beams, buckled in the middle and as thick and wide as tree trunks.

A picture of the second plane exploding in the World Trade Center Tower as the first tower burned loomed, enormous and silent, behind these beams rescued from the trade center towers.

And I was struck by the knowledge that everything in this museum happened.  The wars I saw depicted on video screens and represented in still photographs happened.  Vietnam happened.  WWI and WWII happened.  Atomic bombs being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki happened.  Just as the terrorist attack on September 11th happened.

My mind was screaming.  The magnitude of what these museums preserve hit me with such force that I had to sit down.  Clutching my purse against my chest, all the faces I had been staring at for the past hours suddenly bloomed into real lives, with families and hopes and dreams.  Staggering numbers like "48,000 killed" became more than just statistics:  these numbers all had faces.

It wasn't until he came up behind me and touched my shoulder that I was able to stand up again.  The weight of my realizations heavy against my mind.  Life is so short.  So truly short.

I looked forward to Sunday's walk on the National Mall with such pride.