A Little Bit Brighter
Being in New York during the 10th anniversary of 9/11 was a sacred experience for me. On the 9th, we went down to ground zero and gazed at the luminescent One World Trade Center Building, also known as Freedom Tower. When construction is complete, the building will stand at 1,776 feet, a symbol of our nation's Declaration of Independence and matching the height of the former World Trade Center building.
On Saturday morning, I caught a train to Battery Park to see the One Life - One Flag Remembrance Field of Honor. The park was quiet and peaceful. People were treading lightly on their feet and speaking in low tones. The air was reverent, heartbreaking, and hopeful all at once. From a distance, the flags in the park looked strange, as though they were sheathed in a white translucent material. When I got close, I realized why the flags looked so different. In place of the traditional red and white stripes, the names of those who perished in the 9/11 attacks were printed.
The letters blurred in front of my swimming wet eyes as I read each name. Their names echoed in my mind and triggered an imaginary filmstrip of the faces of those who missed them, ached to see their faces again, and prayed for their eternal rest. I wished they were more than letters on a flag. More than typed ink for those little ones who never knew their daddy and for those wives and husbands who still crave their companion.
I loved learning about this sculpture that has become an integral part of our nation's history. For three decades, this sculpture stood in the plaza of the World Trade Center. It is entitled "the Sphere" and the artist meant for it to express world peace. It survived the burning rubble during the attacks, and although damaged, stands today as a symbol of our nation's indestructible spirit.
A non-profit organization set up a booth at the park where people could write their feelings on a colorful ribbon and tie it to a wall. I imagined angel fingers gliding their fingers on those heavenly messages and smiling as they read our words. We will not forget you.
I suppose the most unexpected and poignant moment for me came when I rounded the bend and saw a dad and his little girl playing in the water fountain. Listening to her unbridled giggle and watching him smile at her sent an electrical current of hope through my body. It occurred to me that no amount of evil could stifle the love I was witnessing between an innocent little soul and her daddy. No amount of evil.
On Sunday, we went to church and decided to watch the 9/11 coverage on tv instead of venturing into the craziness. We sat on our rooftop and watched a light being sent straight to heaven.
On Monday, life got back to its normal New York City pace. But as I sat on the train on my way to my job interviews, I found myself looking at the other passengers with a more tolerant and kind lens. No one wore a badge stating they had lost someone on 9/11. Their scars from fleeing a burning building weren't visible. Maybe 9/11 didn't mean that much to them.
But maybe it did. Maybe they were still grieving. Maybe they were just starting to heal.
And so I tried my best to be more kind.
And maybe the darkness in the world will get just a little brighter.
On Saturday morning, I caught a train to Battery Park to see the One Life - One Flag Remembrance Field of Honor. The park was quiet and peaceful. People were treading lightly on their feet and speaking in low tones. The air was reverent, heartbreaking, and hopeful all at once. From a distance, the flags in the park looked strange, as though they were sheathed in a white translucent material. When I got close, I realized why the flags looked so different. In place of the traditional red and white stripes, the names of those who perished in the 9/11 attacks were printed.
The letters blurred in front of my swimming wet eyes as I read each name. Their names echoed in my mind and triggered an imaginary filmstrip of the faces of those who missed them, ached to see their faces again, and prayed for their eternal rest. I wished they were more than letters on a flag. More than typed ink for those little ones who never knew their daddy and for those wives and husbands who still crave their companion.
I loved learning about this sculpture that has become an integral part of our nation's history. For three decades, this sculpture stood in the plaza of the World Trade Center. It is entitled "the Sphere" and the artist meant for it to express world peace. It survived the burning rubble during the attacks, and although damaged, stands today as a symbol of our nation's indestructible spirit.
A non-profit organization set up a booth at the park where people could write their feelings on a colorful ribbon and tie it to a wall. I imagined angel fingers gliding their fingers on those heavenly messages and smiling as they read our words. We will not forget you.
I suppose the most unexpected and poignant moment for me came when I rounded the bend and saw a dad and his little girl playing in the water fountain. Listening to her unbridled giggle and watching him smile at her sent an electrical current of hope through my body. It occurred to me that no amount of evil could stifle the love I was witnessing between an innocent little soul and her daddy. No amount of evil.
On Sunday, we went to church and decided to watch the 9/11 coverage on tv instead of venturing into the craziness. We sat on our rooftop and watched a light being sent straight to heaven.
On Monday, life got back to its normal New York City pace. But as I sat on the train on my way to my job interviews, I found myself looking at the other passengers with a more tolerant and kind lens. No one wore a badge stating they had lost someone on 9/11. Their scars from fleeing a burning building weren't visible. Maybe 9/11 didn't mean that much to them.
But maybe it did. Maybe they were still grieving. Maybe they were just starting to heal.
And so I tried my best to be more kind.
And maybe the darkness in the world will get just a little brighter.
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Amy Grenoble