On Sunday morning during fest weekend, I met some good friends in the courtyard. We got doughnuts and coffee from Krispy Kreme, sat down and talked.
I recall looking up at the Twin Towers for a few moments, admiring how beautiful they were. It was a warm day, but I got a terrible chill all of a sudden, and wondered what the hell was wrong with me.
Of course, when terrorists committed mass murder there three weeks later, I wondered if I'd had a premonition of what was to come.
I look at the ghost-laden crater that now stands where the World Trade Center stood and realize that I took six rides into and out of that subway tunnel (I'd decided not to take a room at the Marriott in order to save money). There is no more Cortlandt stop, and won't be for a long time to come, if ever.
I attended two memorial services on 9/11, one at the postal facility where I work, the other in a local park near home. I cried during both. What happened to America that day will never heal, not completely, because we have lost our innocence, the belief that we are invulnerable, and the violence happening in other places could never happen here.
It did.
And since I live on Long Island, it was very close to home, too close for comfort. And since I was at the WTC myself only three weeks previously, I ponder how timing is everything.
I pray for the dead, and for the living who mourn them.
Love, Robin