September 11, 2011. Ten years later and this is the view from my daughters' bedroom window. I feel both lucky and sad to live so close. Lucky that I live in such a special place with my lovely family and people I truly enjoy as neighbors. But also sad that this city is forever changed by something so incredibly horrific and yes, evil. I don't dwell on that day at all. In fact, living in New York City for over 6 years now, it's kind of amazing how little I think about that particular day. I was visiting Washington, D.C. that week and had just made it to the Capitol for congressional staff training that bright Tuesday morning when the world changed. By the time we fled the building amidst total chaos and panic, the towers were burning and we were completely bewildered that there could be more planes headed our way. The Pentagon was on fire and in the distance we could see the smoke. It was then that I knew this was more than a fluke. It was the beginning of a war we'd still be fighting a decade later. We marched across the city to get back to our hotel and listened intently to car radios the whole way back. Traffic was at a standstill on almost every street, but people opened up their cars to take stranded commuters. There was a palpable sense of unity that I have never again felt. We walked and walked for hours to get back. At a corner store, I heard a man say the towers had fallen. But how could that be? This news just felt wrong and made me almost physically ill. I needed proof but we wouldn't have it for a while longer.
The towers had come down before I ever turned on a TV. I remember trying to visualize the destruction I kept hearing about and yet there was no way I could. Making it to my room again mid-day, I tried to phone Nacho who was living in Spain at the time and was so relieved when my phone card went through. Hearing his voice was such consolation on that miserable day. Later, a group of us holed up in one room watching footage over and over again, knowing already that the missing would become casualties in a matter of hours. None of us wanted to be alone. Later that night we ventured out by cab to the apartment of another staffer to watch the President speak. This was a man I strongly disliked, but that night, I listened to him with an open heart. I remember thinking he looked scared. Did that make him more human? Maybe so. On the way home, we could hear fighter jets overhead and I thought that perhaps there would be another day of burning buildings and people scrambling for cover. There was an eery tension in that stillness. I just wanted to get out of there. I was lucky enough to get a rental car and make it to North Carolina the following day. It was such a relief to be with my family again.
The towers had come down before I ever turned on a TV. I remember trying to visualize the destruction I kept hearing about and yet there was no way I could. Making it to my room again mid-day, I tried to phone Nacho who was living in Spain at the time and was so relieved when my phone card went through. Hearing his voice was such consolation on that miserable day. Later, a group of us holed up in one room watching footage over and over again, knowing already that the missing would become casualties in a matter of hours. None of us wanted to be alone. Later that night we ventured out by cab to the apartment of another staffer to watch the President speak. This was a man I strongly disliked, but that night, I listened to him with an open heart. I remember thinking he looked scared. Did that make him more human? Maybe so. On the way home, we could hear fighter jets overhead and I thought that perhaps there would be another day of burning buildings and people scrambling for cover. There was an eery tension in that stillness. I just wanted to get out of there. I was lucky enough to get a rental car and make it to North Carolina the following day. It was such a relief to be with my family again.
A lot has happened in the ten years since that day. I followed my heart to Spain, came back again, got married, lived in Philadelphia, moved to New York, worked a lot and traveled the world, had a baby, lost my job, found some balance, had another baby. It's been ten years of life moving on, of kids being born and growing up, of wars and people living one day at a time. And in all of this, it's easy to forget what we lost on 9/11. As clumsy as it sounds to say, there was an innocence and an optimism that my generation forfeited that day. I don't think that can be overestimated. Seeing these lights tonight from my own window, I realize there's part of me that will truly never forget how it felt to live that day. Whether it's this anniversary or the next, I have an obligation to remember. I want to remember. And although I don't know what I will tell Elisa and Carolina about it, I know that when the time comes, I will find the right words. Sometimes bad things happen even when you are good. Sometimes people do the wrong thing and they hurt you. They even hurt themselves. It's so simple and yet it still doesn't make sense. I would like to think that they will visit the World Trade Center some day soon and come home with a sense of how beautiful this city is and how great it is to live in a place where people get along. As those of us who love this place know, it can be the most welcoming city on earth. That hasn't changed and I hope it never does.
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