My family came here from somewhere else, but I was born in America. Arverne, Queens in New York to be exact. It was a tossup between here and London. I very nearly had a cute accent and addiction to PG Tips. Life is random that way.
Kind of like the day that the WTC got bombed. People were happy, or unhappy. Going about their day, working, talking on the phone, looking out of the window, loving life. Just being free and alive and unaware that hatred towards our country would end their lives and plunge lower Manhattan into screaming chaos.
This was my first visit to the 9/11 Memorial Plaza and it scared me to death to think about the devastation that this tranquil area represents. The sound of the flowing water trying to cleanse away the hatred and the hurt.
For me the worst part is the square the water flows into. I know it’s weird, but I think of all of those people and how their lives just disappeared into thin air, and in my mind’s eye I can see them all in there, under the water.
Staring at the sky and looking for planes.