Four Years Later

At the beach, Cheryl and her son played next to me. Haiden cooed as he ate sand dusted Cheerios from the blanket. I'd stopped talking and looked toward the sun and sky, the crystal clear sky. It was gorgeous, yet oddly disquieting.

Something fleeting, flashed in my mind. Was I forgetting something? It's important, what is it?

Oh, yes, the date, today's date.

"I can't believe it's been four years already," Cheryl said, sensing my thoughts.

No, I couldn't believe it either.

Four years ago today, I watched two towers fall, opening a hole in the sky. Four years ago today, NY changed.

Cheryl spoke again, about where she was when it'd happened. She was with her friend, Drew. On subsequent anniversaries, they'd text message each other to say, Thinking of you etc. This time, Cheryl mentioned she had thought to let it pass without acknowledgment. Alas, Drew did not and without fail, texted her to say,
"Thinking of you on this day."

I didn't bring up where I was that day. I'd told the story so many times. Late for work. Train re-routed to the Manhattan Bridge. Saw the burning towers. Walked down to City Hall from Canal Street, all the while thinking, I need to get to work. Short while later, sat on a fire hydrant, thinking There's no way I'd be working today. A sick crackling noise from above and the south tower fell. Spires of metal, crumpled like sand. People crying, woman falling to her knees, wailing "Oh lord, have mercy." People running. Cloud of debris giving chase. I was moving. Grabbing at people, helping them climb on to the Brooklyn Bridge walkway. Overtaken by smoke, I smell metal. I pull my shirt up to cover my mouth. All I see are eyes, fear-filled eyes. Is that what I look like? We walk in silence. About 20 minutes later, I've reached the other side of the bridge. I turn, in time to watch the north tower's antenna array wobble and disappear downwards. I point myself into Brooklyn and don't look back.

I hadn't forgotten. I would never let myself. I'd thought about this day, last week, last night and this morning. But for a moment, I was lost in a moment. Today couldn't have been further away from that day, four years ago. Thank goodness.

For Cheryl, it's easy to push the memory aside. She has new, more important priorities, namely Haiden, nearly pushing one. He was a hard fought battle and she is brimming with hope. She's changed.

No bundle of joy for me… yet. I imagine I'll change too.

And isn't that just it? We're always changing, reacting, growing. Perhaps I've surpassed the pinnacle of growth from Sept. 11, 2001. The pain is an old friend, he's hard to let go. I don't have to look back so often, to figure out where I'm supposed to go. I'm there.