New York City, The intersection of Greenwich and Liberty. We’d just walked through the Twin Tower Memorial. The recessed fountains, rimmed as they are with brass – engraved with the names of the dead. Water, ever flowing. Down and down again.
Fourteen years have passed. The bitter ache no longer rising. Something of a milestone. Here of all places, I thought. Yes, time had done that thing that time does – making hard things easier. I felt it, yes – body memory moved things inside. But the intensity has faded. Like most, I was nowhere near when the towers fell. Yet, like most I “took it personal.”
But I wasn’t there… could count with a few fingers the number of times I’d been in the city. I knew no one who had died. Still, there was all that emotion – we all felt it, all had things to say and we said them, and said them again.