State House

I have lived in downtown Annapolis for three years and I am grateful every day for this view:

There's something inspiring about how the dome of the State House catches the sun. It's even more beautiful than the gold-covered capital buildings you usually see (no offense, Boston). I especially love it in front of a backdrop of impending bad weather, when you can feel the pressure changing from an incoming rain storm, but the sun has yet to duck behind the clouds. It sings of summertime.

Who doesn't love the Maryland flag?

Of course, the building itself is historically significant. It is the oldest capital building in the country still in legislative use, and the only building with its original (Entirely wooden! Made without nails, because they were super expensive back then!) dome architecture still in tact. The architect—Joseph Horatio Anderson—was especially proud of his work. Today his ghost wanders the halls of the State House, scaring away any visitors who are critical of his craft. Or so I was told on a ghost tour. You know, if you believe in that kind of thing. When I was a kid, my mom told stories of George Washington gallivanting about Naptown, dining at Reynold's Tavern and sleeping at the Maryland Inn. Whether or not those stories are true, it is widely known that the Maryland Capital Building is where George Washington resigned his commission as commander-in-chief for the army; this is where we planted the seeds of a government for the people, by the people. It was in this same building where the Treaty of Paris was signed, putting an end to the Revolutionary War.

Peek-a-boo!

You can see the very top of the State House from our back yard; it is a two-block walk from our front door. On quiet, windy nights I can hear the flags at the tippity-top whipping back and forth in the wind. The capital is my anchor. In the last three years I've wandered all around Naptown: to go to work, to visit friends, to show out-of-town tourists the sights. Many nights I'll walk my dog to the top of the State House steps where we will sit together in silence, overlooking Rowe Boulevard. It's my spot to be alone, to look out over the city, to capture some peace and quiet. Every weekend my roommates and I adventure about Annapolis. But whenever I see this peeking through the buildings I know I'm close to home. When I see the State House, I know I'm not far from the life I've created for myself. From the little family I've hand-picked, where we all take care of each other, while learning how to take care of ourselves. 

I especially love driving home over the 450 Bridge at sunset. A few years ago I worked in a veterinary hospital. There were many nights I would drive home at 10 p.m. or later. It wasn't unusual for me to spend the ride crying a little bit (okay, a lot), upset over the daily stress of my job, the demands of clients, the difficulty paying bills. But once I hit that bridge, everything within me relaxed. I didn't have to answer to anyone else. Seeing the capital in the distance means I am entering the realm where I dictate what happens to me.

I love running over the 450 bridge.

Up the street.

My commute.

As an adult activist, the State House is significant to my political life. This is where I've fought for many years, lobbying on the front steps or in Lawyer's Mall for issues that are extremely important to me. This is where representatives have met with me to discuss their stance, where our mayor has spoken to crowds of people letting them know their voices have been heard, that their actions matter. And now, this is where my coworkers go every day during the legislative session to fight for progress, for change. Walking past this centralizing monument every day roots me to our nation's unique and beautiful history. It reminds me of the cultural significance of Maryland — what a wonderful place to live! And mostly, it reminds me that with persistence and hard work, we are all capable of change.