On June 11th, 2010, the Kahan family navy Subaru pulled up in front
of 1351 Irving Street to drop me off for the summer. Standing by the road
was Rachel Pauline, twenty-four years old and wearing a light grey summer
dress with matching flip flops. She helped Dad and I unload the car, and
then we went out for dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant. A positive
energy lingered about that night, and throughout that weekend. It almost
felt like I was being dropped off for summer camp again, only better,
because that summer I could spend with my sister. That timeframe held all
the promise in the world, as I was to try out a city I hoped to make my
future home, alongside Rachie.
Visiting Rachel in D.C. was always a joy, as it was clear how much
she loved this city. The very first time I visited Rachel here was in October
of 2007, when I stood in awe in front of her wide shoe selection and
commented to my mom that our Ray now had real working shoes. As you
guys know, Rachel was fun, sharp, witty, and very caring. Nearly every
corner of this city is filled to the brim with memories of Rachel. We toured
the Monuments at night together to avoid the heat and tourists; we hit up
the Georgetown shopping area numerous times; we had Christmas Eve
dinner at the White Tiger where I accidentally sat on the tablecloth, taking
the entire table setting with me, but Rachel still put up with me; we
frequented Filene’s Basement and when the escalator went too quickly for
my tastes, Rachel assured me it was merely chanting “buy a matching
purse, buy a matching purse;” we supported each other during various
incidents of digestion issues, including the time I got ill from a sketchy
Wendy’s on the way to white water rafting in West Virginia. Rachel was full
of practical D.C advice, such as that time she told me, “Dude, you think it’s
going to be ninety-five degrees here in the summer, but once you’re in an
office building it will be sixty-eight air-conditioned degrees and you’ll get the
sniffles. Bring a sweater.”
It was clear how much RP belonged in D.C. Her visits home to
Michigan were always treasured, but her life was in D.C. Everyone
understood that except for her aging cat Ziggy, who used to show his
disapproval on the furniture. Like everyone with good taste, Ziggy simply
adored Rachel.
For years, a loosely outlined plan was developed for me to join
Rachel here. At first it was merely a concept, but as I found more direction,
it was beginning to take shape. I used to tell Rachel, “I’m not moving here
for you dude. I’d be moving here to enter Thomas into the annual Prince of
Petworth Coolest Pet Competition.” But that wasn’t true, and Rachel knew
this city only appealed to me if she were here. This winter she began to say
about my moving here, “that is some poor planning, dude.” Rachel of
course was right, and I mourn the future we would have had here together.
I am however extremely grateful for the five wonderful years Rachel
spent here, as well as for the friends who surrounded her. We’re united by
Rachel’s memory and I know that after tonight each of us will go about
making our Rachel proud, no matter where our separate paths take us.
Rachel had fantastic friends, who stood by her through everything. So to
everyone here, I say “thank you for loving my big sister.”