Remembering 9/11

I look out my window as I write this and stare at the perfect blue sky in NYC . . . the same one we all remember on 9/11 and the one that can transport us back there, if even for a moment, during an otherwise regular day.  But today isn’t regular.  The memory of 9/11 is always there but it comes crashing down, each year, on the anniversary in a way that is still so raw and painful.  

I realize that we have to go on with celebrating life and that everyday activities have to happen, even on 9/11 but I also recognize the need to go there;  to allow ourselves to feel something or everything.  I am for moving on but I am not for sanitizing the enormity, anguish and sadness of that tragic day.   I watch the coverage and in an instant, emotions come rushing back as I remember details with a clarity that I can’t even apply to what I did last week.  Then the veil of numbness sets in as I go about my day.

Living in downtown NYC evokes very personal memories but none are more personal than those of the people who were at the WTC, lost loved ones that day, or involved in the massive aftermath.  My prayers are always with them but especially on this day, my heart is theirs.