Every time the end of summer rolls around and I see a bright blue sky and feel the crisp air I can’t help but remember another perfect September day. I remember looking up at the sky as my father drove me to work–my car was being worked on and thinking the day could not be anymore gorgeous and how sad I was to be heading into an office for the next several hours.
We heard about the first plane while listening to the radio to determine why traffic was snarling on Queens Boulevard. We heard the second attack through the reactions of the people on the radio who were still trying to understand what happened with the first plane. The office where I worked was a sea of tears, confusion, and fear and after a while most people just stopped attempting to work and watched the news or looked out the window which gave us an unobstructed view of the Twin Towers. We saw the first one fall and were told to go home. So we did, many of us to go be with our families and to sit and weep.
In the days and weeks and even months later, after all the candlelight vigils, there was still the pull and need to sit and reflect and weep.