I’m stuck in the crowd of people.  Shoulder to shoulder, as we all walked down the hall from the last large room to the next.  Up the stairs, and through a large door, which, to me, looked like it was made to fit an extremely large person through it. I smiled to myself as I pictured a giant man attempting to get through this door.  I then looked at my grandpa and smiled up at him.  It was the first time in the week we visited Washington D.C. that my grandpa and I got to spend some time alone from my cousin who didn’t stop talking the whole trip.  He’s like that gross mosquito that won’t leave you alone. 

We reached the last door and exited the Holocaust museum tour.  The tour had such disturbing pictures that even a person with the strongest stomach would have wanted to be sick.  I start walking in the direction of the lobby to find my grandma and cousin.  My grandpa put his hand on my shoulder and said there was one more thing before we regrouped. “What else is there to see?” I thought to myself as I turned to follow him.

Side by side we walked down another hallway.  Scattered on the paper-white walls were pictures and quotes from some of the men and women that survived the traumatizing period in their lives.  Together, we walked down the hall; in silence.  Then, there it was.  A beautifully arranged room, with dazzling lights and a gold band stretched across the four of the walls.  Then, sitting in the middle, was a black box. 

We had reached the archway of the magnificent room and my feet wouldn’t move.  It was like they had been nailed to the floor.  Quietly, my grandpa leaned down and told me a tale of what my eyes were fixed upon.  He explained that inside the box, was dirt that had been collected from each and every one of the Concentration camps that had been used in the Holocaust as work or extermination camps.  They were still receiving earth from various camps every day to add to the memorial.  Though, only dirt, there was a deep meaning and a story behind it. 

As I stood there with a dumbfounded look slapped across my face, I had the sense of my body going numb, and something came over me. It was as though I knew that if I stepped into that room, a heavy weight would be placed on my shoulders.  So much death, survival, pain, sickness, torture and faded hope had been placed in this one room.  Two minutes had slowly gone by before I broke out of the trance and realized that I was still standing in the archway, while my grandpa had already walked in and was admiring the box.  He looked so sad standing there; my heart just sunk watching this man I looked up to seem so empty and alone. I walked in and stood next to him.  There were no words to be said as we stood there in remembrance and sorrow.

Shortly after, we left.  We didn’t talk too much walking back to get my grandma and my cousin from the main lobby. There was nothing to be said, for the memorial where we had just been said it all.

Even though it’s been a little over a year since I visited the memorial. Everything that happened that day will always be a vivid, touching, overwhelming memory in my mind. Tucked a way in the deepest part of my thoughts, to recall the raw emotions and exposed feelings of my past.