When I was a kid I thought that I wanted to grow up and have no permanent home, to travel the country, maybe the world, living nowhere and everywhere, free to move about as I wanted.  I’ve always kept that idea tucked in the back of my mind, thinking that someday maybe I’d hit the road permanently.  But after spending a week alone in DC I have to say I may need to reevaluate that concept of freedom.

On one hand it’s a wonderful experience that everyone should have, days and days without agenda, no responsibilities, sleeping as late as you like, eating when you like, what you like, visiting sites you’re interested in, leaving them if they don’t hold your attention.  On the other hand there is no one to discuss the sites with, no one to catch a meal with, no one to wake up to the next morning.  And as I wandered the city in my one pair of jeans, wearing my beige coat, purse over my shoulder I began to feel invisible.  People working the museums, the train, the national monuments saw me, I’m sure, but I’m equally sure they won’t remember me.  People taking my meal orders at restaurants smile blithely but wouldn’t be able to describe me the next day if they were asked.  Often my food orders were prepared in error, people didn’t seem to hear me, or maybe they just weren’t listening.  I thought that perhaps this is the way homeless people feel.  Invisible.

Each day I’d go out and explore some new venue.  I’d fill my day until it got dark and then I’d scurry home to the hotel.  I was grateful I had the hotel to retreat to and  I wondered about other people that wandered as I did but didn’t have that luxury.  It was a funny feeling to belong nowhere; to attempt to fill my days, plotting where I could go to get warm, or to sit down for awhile.  There aren’t so many places you can just sit for very long without arousing suspicion.  I even wandered into the downtown DC public library and read a whole book one morning, when I arrived at an art museum several hours before it opened.

It’s an eye opener to be “homeless” for a week.  To not be noticed by anyone.  When I was a kid I thought that being invisible might be fun.  Now I think maybe not so much.