Free First Sight by Laura Donohue Page A

chuckled in amazement.
    “You’re lucky that you’re so tall; you can just push through people.”
    Travis laughed harder as we continued across the street.  He had let go but held his arm protectively around me, so that his hand barely grazed my shoulder, as we walked along.   “I never thought of it that way.  But you’re little, so I gues s I need to look out for you.”
    I laughed and glanced up at him.  He was already gaz ing down at me , a smile playing on his lips, and as I looked into his brown eyes , I felt a tiny flutter in my heart.
    ***
    The West B uilding of the National Gallery of Art has always been one of my favorite spaces in DC.  The grand white structure is located on Constitution Avenue, right on the National Mall.  I t stretches down the city block and is rectangular with a dome perched at the center . After walking into the building , you enter into a large rotunda , where thick , white marble columns surround a fountain in the center .  The space is vast and dimly lit.  I always feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief inside as I leav e the rush of the city behind.
    Travis followed me to the center of the room , near the fountain, looking around in awe.  “Wow, this is really beautiful.”
    “I know,” I said, nodding in agreement .  “It’s one of my favorite buildings in DC.”
    “I can see why.”
    “ At Christmasti me they have poinsettias displayed all around the fountain.  It looks really amazing to see all the red flowers against the white marble.”
    We stood there a little while longer before I pulled Tr avis over to the Impressionist G allery, explaining that they were my absolute favorite paintings .  Travis seemed to appreciate them as well.  I showed him some of my favorite Impressionist pieces , pointing out the muted colors of Monet’s landscapes and the soft features i n Renoir’s women and children.   I remembered coming here during college to take notes on various paintings for my Art History c lass .  I’d sat on a bench in front of a Titian painting with my notebook and tried to write down all the various techniques seen in the painting that we’d been taught in class .  I had no talent for painting, but I absolutely loved studying the artwork .  The colors, the artistry, the symbolism in th e pieces—it all fascinated me.
    “What’s your favorite painting?” Travis asked quietly, so as not to disturb the other patrons.
    “Here?” I asked, looking around.
    Travis studied me for a moment before answering.  “ Here, and your actual favorite painting.”
    I turned to him and smiled.  “My favorite painting here is that one of Monet’s with water lilies. ”
    Travis walked over to the painting that I was pointing to and stood in front of it .  I followed him and heard him read the title out loud.  “ The Japanese Footbridge ,” he said softly, mostly to himself.  “I like it,” he said , agree ing with my choice.  Then he glanced down at me.  “And your actual favorite painting?”
    “It’s not here,” I said with a smile.  “It’s in the Phillip’s Collection.  But my absolute favorite painting is Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party. ”
    “Where’s the Phillip’s Collection?”
    “Near Dupont Circle.”
    “It’s in DC?”
    “Yeah, sort of the northwest area , ” I said nodding.
    “We’ll have to go there sometime.   I’d love to see it. ”
    “It’s a date,” I replied , suddenly stopping myself when I realized what I’d just said.  If Travis had caught on , he didn’t give any indication .  “Well, you know what I mean,” I continued.   “ Shall we go see some other exhibit s ?”
    Travis and I spent the rest of the afternoon at the National Gallery .  We walked over to the East Building to see the special exhibition , but we also spent some more time in the main building , admiring the Italian Renaissance paintings and few other things along the way that caught our eye .   A s we walked out of