A. Marie Silver

A. Marie Silver

Memorial Day Memories – Part 2

Two weeks ago I wrote part one of  Memorial Day Memories. I ended it abruptly due to a suspicious smell. And now that the fire department has left, the smoke has cleared up and I’ve finished Feng Shuing the pantry, alphabetizing the spices, and cleaning the grout in the shower,




I now have the time to finish writing this series. And now without further adieu. Here is the conclusion to Memorial Day Memories.

Drum roll please.

We finished our lunch and left the makeshift cafeteria, forgetting one minor detail.

Merging our way in and out of the crowds we found an exhibit to explore. I can’t remember which exhibit it was. I think there were big fish. Or maybe dinosaurs. There were definitely a lot of kids on leashes being lugged around by their exasperated parents. Or maybe that was just us….I can’t remember. Anyway, we got to wherever it was we were going and the four-year-old turns around. 

“Mommy. I have to go potty.” 


That was the one minor detail we forgot.

I took the four-year-old back through the maze of people, winding around corners, dodging elbows and strollers until we found the restrooms.

She did her business. We left the restroom. I looked around the area we were in.

I had no idea how to get back to my husband and two other kids. Every exhibit hallway I glanced into looked exactly the same. 

I retraced our steps and found the first exhibit we were in….the one with big fish, or dinosaurs, or something, and then worked my way through until I damn-near ran down my six-year-old.

“Mommy! Mommy!” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me in the direction of my husband.

“What took you so long?” My husband asked.

“I got lost.”

“You got lost? It was two right turns.” My husband would know this because he spent a summer interning in D.C. and visited these museums often.

“This is me we’re talking about. I get lost walking out to the mailbox.”

“It’s attached to our front door,” he said.

“And yet somehow I wind up in the backyard every afternoon, completely confused.” It’s like he doesn’t even know me.

The six-year-old continued tugging on me, pointing off to one direction. “Mommy! Mommy! I want to go this way.” We all follow behind him and find ourselves in a super-cheerful section of the museum – “The history of Ebola and other scary diseases that will kill you.”

We spent a few minutes in that exhibit and then moved on to the Hope Diamond.

There was a small group of people around the Hope Diamond display and I knew what they were thinking. Because thanks to a high-grossing, box office hit back in 1997,

anyone who’s ever heard of the movie and visited the Hope Diamond thinks about this. I figured I’d be the first person to say something and maybe get a few a laughs. Heck, maybe it would spark my career as a stand-up comic. Word would quickly travel about the plus-sized Marvelous Mrs. Maisel who performed at the Natural History Museum over Memorial Day weekend. Maybe I’d even get a spot on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. 

Ellen: Besides being discovered at The Natural History Museum, did anything else exciting happen during that trip?

Me: Yes. I got lost taking my daughter to the bathroom.

Ellen: You got lost?

Me: Yes. Apparently instead of making two right turns, I made one right turn, one left turn, two diagonal turns, and a semi-twist.

Ellen: Wow. Those are some serious moves. How did you finally find your husband?

Me: I used the Alexa app on my phone.

I left fantasyland and returned to reality with the line that would make me famous.

“Honey,” I turned to my husband. “I just want you to know that my heart will go on.” 

“What was that?” He didn’t hear me.

But it wasn’t just him. No one heard me. There wasn’t a single chuckle within the crowd.

It occurred to me that choosing an overused line might not have been the best idea. But then, the guy standing next to me muttered, “Jack, I’ll never let you go.” Muttered. He muttered that sentence. Muttered, as in a soft tone.

And everyone around him burst into laughter, including my husband.

Oh sure. That, my husband heard.

We visited a few more exhibits before heading back to the metro station. The train arrived a few minutes later and we boarded, preparing for our 45 minute trip home.

Just as the doors closed, my four-year-old looked at me and said, “Mommy, I need to go potty.”

And that, folks, sums up our trip to D.C. over Memorial Day weekend. Be sure to join me next week. I have no idea what I’m writing about so it’ll be exciting for everyone!

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A. Marie Smith

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