Written on Sept. 11, 2013, 2014 and 2015.
New York City: my birthplace, my jungle, my city. Though I am a lover of Boston and all her rich beauty, NYC will always be there at the back of my mind, calling me home.
I’ll never forget the events of that fateful Tuesday, 13 years ago.
On that day, I was sitting in my short, sticky, blue, wood-topped desk that opened up so I could keep all my supplies in it. I was in second grade. At around 8:45 a.m., I started to get knots in my stomach. The kind of knots you get when you’ve done something really wrong like cheated on a test or stole someone’s cookies. Terrible, twisting, contorted knots that made me feel sick, and, eventually, made me throw up. At 9 a.m. The nurse, Ms. Smith, who was also the secretary, called my mom to tell me I needed to go home.
But Mom was already on her way to me.
I remember going home on that day. I remember the news blaring. I remember terrifying scenes of smoke. I remember my mom trying to call my family, her sister, my godmother. I remember dad coming home ashen-faced, clearly panicked. I remember not understanding, but wanting to. I remember my parents feeling the same way. At the same time, it was easier to hide under the blankets and pretend it wasn’t happening.
It is for these things that I remember that I always reflect every year on Sept. 11.
On that day, we must take a second to pause and remember the horrendous impact that the events of 13 years ago had upon those chrome castles. This detriment to the skyline seemed to break our spirits and suck them away in the unfurling of the smoke.
But only just.
With every ounce of darkness that was brought upon this mighty city, there was a sheer, brilliant, gleaming light, shining out of those thousands who rushed in to save someone, out of those who offered refuge to those who needed it, out of those who offered support to those who could not find what had been taken.
Jon Stewart said, “The reason I don’t worry about society is, 19 people knocked down two buildings and killed thousands. Hundreds of people ran into those buildings to save them. I’ll take those odds every f**king day.” And he’s right. At the end of the day, good and love and radiance will always outlast the bad and hatred and darkness.
On this day, I ask you, all over the world, hold your loved ones tight. As much as it is a day of reverence and respect for those lost in the fight, is also an exaltation of life, and of the hope of the innate goodness of people. Revel in the joy of the world around you. Be that beaming light in times of darkness, and remember that the effects of selflessness don’t end on the day of the act, but continue on forever.
On Sept. 11, we remember what we should never forget.
