Small steps in a big world

Feeling small I gazed upon the immense figure that loomed above me like a towering giant sitting in judgement of this small English girl who had found herself in his presence that sultry Thursday evening in late July. Around me, tourists pushed and craned their necks, clicking away on their compact cameras or trying to look like they knew what they were doing as they twisted the lens on their shiny SLR.
But me? I was frozen. Looking up at this larger than life representation of a man who had so defined an age, a country, a culture even - I felt tiny, weak and insignificant. His arms lay almost nonchalantly against the sides of his stoney seat as he tilted his head and looked down upon the people (and the city) below.
Such a serious expression on his face: was he unhappy with what had become of his United States? Was he silently scowling at the seething crowds of endless gawkers who walked up countless steps to stand in his presence and preserve the moment through the magic of Instagram?
It was certainly an enigma to me.
Finally breaking my gaze, I turned back toward the mirror-like reflecting pool that stretched away from the monument. It seemed, that night, like the stars had taken residence in this water as it reflected the lights of the city night.
Despite the activity around me, I felt a strange sense of peace come over me. Walking forward, I passed through the towering columns at the entrance to the monument - an ode to classical architecture and perfectly fitting the grandeur the venue’s construction. I couldn’t help but look up and marvel at the scale and spectacle it provided.
Just beyond here laid a plaque that stated, ‘I have a dream’: this was the very spot that Martin Luther King, Jr. had stood when he delivered that speech. I felt the echoes of history flood through me as I imagined that day - Lincoln behind him, thousands of people surrounding the water below - it was an almost magnetic energy, as if that place was resonating at a different frequency to the rest of the world.
And then I got it. History lives and breathes through what is left behind - be it a statue, or a speech, or a law passed. These testaments to time stand to remind us of those who walked this world before us. When we interact with them, we are living and breathing these past times - immersing ourselves in them.
Later that night, I got out a five dollar bill and smiled at the image of the Lincoln Memorial emblazoned on one side: so much more than a building, so much more.