Thursday, September 11, 2014

9 / 11. Perspective

So, youngest daughter is off to college, It's just me and my best friend now. Which, when I think about it, could be worse. Youngest daughter was gone a week and her cat died. The cat who grew up with her and was part of our family for most of the years we've been out here. So, emotional times and all that. Then today. Again.
My husband (said best friend) is on a business trip this week in New York. This is my first time on my own for a week in .... I don't know ...forever? I talked to him tonight and he was telling me about the ground zero memorial he was able to visit yesterday. He really didn't have the words to describe what it was like and what it made him feel. He just said we all need to go. I've seen the progress on TV of the new, beautiful, proud, defiant tower. Have seen the pictures of the square fountains with the names of the heroes. I didn't know that underground - beneath where the North and South towers were, is a museum. He said it is so vast and incredible and real. Timelines of everything..., what happened when, names and internet bios of all the victims along the walls, timelines of what decisions the President made and what he said, significant and meaningful pieces of every part of that tragic, horrific, significant, unforgettable event. The last time we were there as a family, there was a vast hole still, surrounded by construction fences and workers. For me, a lesson. Holes in our lives can and should be filled. With something better. Something hopeful. Something significant, filled with goodness and passion and peace. 
As I was talking to my husband about this tonight, at one point I heard sirens in the background. He had the windows open to Manhattan and if you've been there, it's a pretty common sound. But tonight. It had significance. I said, "I hear sirens", and we were both silent, listening to the anxiety inducing, yet familiar wale of fire engines over the phone, something so common, yet on this day, something so meaningful. I started to cry. Thought back to that day and how it changed all our lives. A day I will never forget. Yet a day that makes me hopeful and proud and thankful and yes, devastated and angry as well. Still. A day to remember. He sent me these pictures.

 No, I won't ever forget. 

But somehow we move on. 

On a happier note. Tomorrow, there will be apples. And perhaps snow?