Sleep really didn't find me that night. Being so close to something that affected me so, wasn't the easiest thing to deal with. I ended up getting out of bed at the crack of dawn. At least it seemed like early morning, but with the dark overcast it was very hard to tell. I told my, still sleeping, wife I was going to go walk around for a bit and I'll be back shortly. I knew they would probably sleep for a couple more hours since it was oh-dark-thirty in the morning. I donned the warmest attire that being in Florida for 8 years allowed, and set out to see where the Twin Towers used to be.
The rain and the wind weren't forgiving to me, yet I pressed on regardless. I walked past a firehouse and there was a memorial there. Huge and made of brass, I think. It showed a line of firefighters pointing a hose at the towers, which were ablaze. The smoke billowing across the top of the words "Dedicated to Those Who Fell and to Those Who Carry On." I stopped to take a picture of it. I then take notice of all the names on the memorial. I didn't read them all, but I suspect there were 343 of them. I keep walking.
I can see a very large, yet somewhat symmetrical, hole before me. It looks almost like someone just started a game of Tetris, but the pieces were made of dirt and mud and steel and weeds. I stop for a minute and I try to figure out if I want to continue. Of course I do. I need to...
It's early on a Tuesday and the office is starting to stir with the buzz of all of it's worker bees. After opening up my office, I walk to the break room to get some water. I hear a couple people talking. "Airplane". "B-52". "World Trade Center". None of it really makes sense. I hear a few other voices say something about a plane crashing into the Twin Towers. What?! Nuh uh. I go back to my office and start to look for webcams in NYC. I find one. It is from the Statue of Liberty and it's pointed towards the Twin Towers and one of them looks like it is on fire. Reality slowly becomes unreal. The bees are buzzing furiously now and some of us find an office with a television. One of the towers is billowing fire from the huge gash left by an airplane. The news correspondents don't know what to say. "Is it an accident?" "How can a plane hit the Twin Towers?" "The scene is pandemonium right now." Then on the left hand side of the screen another plane flashes briefly...then another explosion...more fire.
Wait. Did they just replay footage of the first tower getting hit? No. The first tower is still there...still on fire..still scarred. That must mean it was the second tower. Now the news crews react. Millions of people watched the second plane hit on live television. I was one of the millions and my feet couldn't move fast enough. I went straight to my office and grabbed my stuff. On the way out I walked by my boss and I told him, "I'm going to get my kids."
Almost five years later...
I look through a chain linked fence at what remains. The world around me is quiet. Quiet, wet, windy and solemn. I step down into the Metro entrance for World Trade Center Path Station. As I go down the stairs I see a mural on my right. It is of a blue sky filled with clouds and in this sky are groups of pictures. From a distance, the pictures look like they were drawn by children. I get closer and my thoughts are confirmed. The pictures are drawings done by kids who lost a father or mother on that Tuesday morning. There are so many and every single one moves me. One in particular stops time for me because I imagined Jemara being told to draw something to help her cope with her loss. I didn't want to put myself in that place because it was too painful for me...so instead I faced the wind in the hopes it would help dry my eyes. It didn't.
Several thousand might not seem a lot, but when it comes to individual lives the value is insurmountable. I see the faces of my children, especially Jemara, and I don't want to think what her life would be like if I my life was suddenly taken. Everyday, I live for her smile and I want to see that smile for as long as possible. Aside from the large crater left in Manhattan, there were thousands of other holes left in the lives of many people. I count myself as one of those affected. Not as much as the children drawing pictures to help them mourn. Not even a millionth as much. I take the long way back to my hotel.
I'm done talking about this now. Goodnight.
