It’s September 11th.
I’m feeling it this year, more than I have for a while. I used to think that this date would always be marked on the calendar in black shadows, but the last few years haven’t been all that bad. This year, though…
This year the tears are back. Right there on the edge. Just on the edge of the levee of my eyes. Just below the dam of my throat. My heart is swelling.
I’m not sure exactly why.
OK, that’s a lie. I know why.
There’s been so much loss lately… The philosopher... And many deaths…
I was working right in Washington DC on that day. In a government building. Maybe a mile from the White House. We were evacuated. I emerged into the sunlight suddenly unclear as to exactly where we were. But I was sure of one thing.
The world would never be the same.
I was right. Big surprise.
I’m an expatriate New Yorker. I don’t live there any more and pretty much haven’t since I left for college. But if something threatens my city, I react with a fierceness that startles me.
On that day I reacted with fierceness and grief. And tears. That’s MY city! How dare they do that to MY CITY!
I didn’t stop crying for 2 weeks. It took drugs to stem the flow.
Drugs followed by 2 years of therapy.
It’s the loss. It always comes back to the loss. The loss and the lack of security. Don’t look away. Don’t turn your back. Don’t drop your guard. Or the next minute, everything could be gone.
Don’t take anything for granted.
Tell the ones you love that you do love them.