You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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Once I had landed I took a cab to the Smithsonian, undoubtedly one of the the most famous landmarks. A place with nineteen museums, galleries, gardens, and a zoo, located between the United States Capitol, and the Washington Monument.
Like always, the institution was jammed with people, combusting from the amount of visitors. Yearly, thirty million people visit the Smithsonian, a let down of a number when trying to find someone within the swarm. But, I could narrow it down to one place, the National Museum of American History, and one display, the Captain America exhibit.
Past the entrance, deep within the American history, and down the corridors led the large room dedicated to the heroic Captain.
I walked past the billboard broadcasting the exhibition, saying "Captain America. The living legend, and symbol of courage".
The visitors were crammed in tightly, yet there was anonymously a shushed silence that hung in the air, everyone having respect for the past, and keeping quiet despite the overwhelming crowds. The relics of yester-years giving off an intimidating aura of admiration, and I couldn't help, but think about the fact that I technically was a relic too.
Everyone around me looked enthralled, the artifacts mere interesting trinkets to them, and not the real life terrors, and depressing aspects that they were to me.
The memories of World War II, the exhibit itself, brought me back in a way so real, and raw. I saw everything differently because I wasn't an observer, I was an experiencer.
I stepped into the dark alcove illuminated up by spotlights, the dark walls closing in on me, and I was now deep within the portion dedicated to Captain America's life, the place where the Howling Commandos showed up.
The black and white photographs, the antiques, everything were things I've touched, and lived within.
I saw photos of myself, my memorial, and it was so strange to see me, but in a way I hadn't before. This wasn't the same as looking in the mirror, this was something more brutal, and sharp.
Scanning around the space I searched for someone in particular amidst the collection of strangers. Eventually spotting a tall brunette with a black baseball cap on casting a shadow across his face, his dark longer strands of hair hugging around his neck.
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