Somehow in the craziness of work and the smallness of my everyday life, it escaped me that yesterday marked anything more than just another date. I got home last night, realized that I had written about the subway on my lunch break, this day of all days, remembered what in some ways I had forgotten, and cried. I read this week's issue of New York Magazine, which somehow I am still getting from Chris's Grandma Jean after all this time, and there was a story about America's Camp. My friend Maia, who stayed with me for a few days back in August, has been volunteering at America's Camp for the past five years. This is a woman of action, a woman I greatly admire, and I can only imagine the time she spends each summer with these children of the victims of 9/11 as a safe harbor for them, a bastion of sorts.
It is frightening, sometimes, to realize that life goes on, that we move further and further away from experiences that have so deeply shaped us. Maybe it is good, sometimes, to go back to where we were, to remember what ever it was that we were feeling, to realize how far we've come and to ground ourselves again, somehow, in where we are now.
My dear friend Cindy had a baby Monday night, and though I have yet to meet little Helen, I am holding her close to my heart, have been thinking of her and smiling ever since I got the news from John, Cindy's husband and another cherished friend to me.
9.12.01
Again today I am at a loss as to where to begin, at a loss for words, for meaning, in the midst of all this chaos and grief, rage and fear. I ended up staying at Columbia last night even though the subways were running again, even though I had planned to go home. It is easier to be with people right now, to be with people I love, and feels less vulnerable somehow, less exposed to danger. I couldn't sleep very well last night. I feel this incessant need to talk about all that has happened--the chaos, the grief, the rage, the fear, the gruesome terrifying details that are only now beginning to make it all seem real. Chris and Andrew and I went for a long walk last night, didn't get back until after three in the morning. The streets were nearly deserted, vacant, ominous, even for the middle of the night. Empty but for a few of the homeless, a few drunks, a few NYPD clusters standing anxious guard on intermittent corners. There were parking spaces on Broadway, and no traffic. We saw New Jersey State Troopers driving south on Broadway, surrounding flatbeds carrying demolition equipment. I woke up early this morning, left my brother's dorm at 7, ran in to Ritu's Jonathan out on the street, exchanged condolences, words of gratitude that we and ours are in tact. Ran into Chris, we got newspapers, sat on the steps for a little while in the sunshine, read of the attacks, drank juice and ate bagels. I went home to shower, change in to clean clothes, cried again while surfing through the TV stations for new news, something to combat this horror. I came back down to Columbia, met Nick for coffee, talked more. Came in to work. It is another beautiful day.
It is frightening, sometimes, to realize that life goes on, that we move further and further away from experiences that have so deeply shaped us. Maybe it is good, sometimes, to go back to where we were, to remember what ever it was that we were feeling, to realize how far we've come and to ground ourselves again, somehow, in where we are now.
My dear friend Cindy had a baby Monday night, and though I have yet to meet little Helen, I am holding her close to my heart, have been thinking of her and smiling ever since I got the news from John, Cindy's husband and another cherished friend to me.
9.12.01
Again today I am at a loss as to where to begin, at a loss for words, for meaning, in the midst of all this chaos and grief, rage and fear. I ended up staying at Columbia last night even though the subways were running again, even though I had planned to go home. It is easier to be with people right now, to be with people I love, and feels less vulnerable somehow, less exposed to danger. I couldn't sleep very well last night. I feel this incessant need to talk about all that has happened--the chaos, the grief, the rage, the fear, the gruesome terrifying details that are only now beginning to make it all seem real. Chris and Andrew and I went for a long walk last night, didn't get back until after three in the morning. The streets were nearly deserted, vacant, ominous, even for the middle of the night. Empty but for a few of the homeless, a few drunks, a few NYPD clusters standing anxious guard on intermittent corners. There were parking spaces on Broadway, and no traffic. We saw New Jersey State Troopers driving south on Broadway, surrounding flatbeds carrying demolition equipment. I woke up early this morning, left my brother's dorm at 7, ran in to Ritu's Jonathan out on the street, exchanged condolences, words of gratitude that we and ours are in tact. Ran into Chris, we got newspapers, sat on the steps for a little while in the sunshine, read of the attacks, drank juice and ate bagels. I went home to shower, change in to clean clothes, cried again while surfing through the TV stations for new news, something to combat this horror. I came back down to Columbia, met Nick for coffee, talked more. Came in to work. It is another beautiful day.
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