September 11, 2009

I was lucky enough to go down to Ground Zero on September 11, 2009. It was an unseasonably cold and rainy September night, which seemed fitting for both my mood and mood in the city that day. I've been to the site many times before but could never bring myself to take pictures. However, I brought my camera this trip because I wanted to be able to look back on the 8th anniversary of the attacks and remember how it felt to be here, as a New Yorker, and remember what a tangibly somber day it was.

It was the most surreal experience for the daughter and sister of firemen.

There were lots of firemen dressed in their color guard blues. It was a handsome sea of solemn men, talking to each other, talking to visitors, smiling, nodding, shaking hands and taking quiet moments for themselves in-between. They were all gathered in Fire Company 10’s garage which is located across the street from what was the Twin Towers.

There was a man playing Amazing Grace on the bag pipes about every 15 minutes. I overheard that he was there all day, for the day's many services. He played about 5 times while I was there and I promise you, that song never gets old.

As I walked the long way back to the subway – I passed a fire woman. She was also in her freshly pressed blues. She had a bouquet of flowers that was quite cumbersome but looked small in her hands. Her badge clearly read Engine No. 10 – FDNY, although she was curiously far from the gathering of her peers at the station a block away. She was standing behind the closed up World Trade Center subway stop near Fulton Street and in front St. Paul's 200 year old Graveyard. She was staring into the vast hole of Ground Zero, that’s since only been filled with flood lights, cranes and jackhammers. She was crying, by herself – We had those two things in common at that very moment. I don’t know what she was thinking or how she was feeling, but I sat down near her and smiled. I wanted her to know that I saw her and that I wanted to support her, this was the best way I knew how.

I sat there and thought about September 11, 8 years ago. I can remember my mom waking me up at 7:30 am. The first tower had already been hit and we saw the second tower go down live. I remember sitting in my car, in the parking lot of my high school when I heard about the Pentagon. I wondered what was next. I was worried about the Golden Gate Bridge and thought about the millions of ways a Bay Area attack could easily destroy my family. At school we were all glued to the TV, in disbelief. I was due to go to New York the next month for my senior student government trip. Instead of our trip, we donated the money to the students of New York’s Stuyvesant High School, where many kids my age had lost their parents in the attacks.

I now live 3 blocks from Stuy High and smile every time I walk by and remember how brave my dad and brother (and all firemen) are every day.