Walked passed this *amazing* scene last night: old woman gettin’ some ink at Moon Sheen Tattoo

Everyone has their story.
What a gorgeous morning it was. I had the Today Show on, and was getting ready to leave for work, when they switched to a live shot of the towers - at that point, calling it a fire. I could see them from my bedroom window. I still have the pictures I took (before and after). I wondered how the fire would ever die. How could it burn itself out? Fire crews can’t get up there. Could they? I was late for work, I needed to leave. *Put the camera down! Go!*

I rode the last morning L train into Manhattan from Brooklyn 10 years ago today. From the same neighborhood I live in now.

Everyone at the office was flustered: *No phones. No service. I can’t make a call. No one is answering.*

I ran to my desk, my desk phone was already ringing. My Mom. “It was planes, and another just hit the Pentagon. I want you with your sister.” *All I wanted to do.* After what seemed like hours - or 10 minutes, I finally got a hold of her, I was on my way uptown. Anything seemed better than downtown. Even though we had no clue what the hell was going on.

My cell phone rang once, it was Sarah. *Meet me at Leann’s. Done.*

Most of us left the office at that time. I was in a shared cab with strangers heading north on 6th Avenue from 23rd Street. Everyone wanted a cab, and no one cared where it took them, as long as it wasn’t downtown. The one guy (his name was Gerard) squeezed next to me, worked in Tower 1 and had an early client meeting first in Gramercy. *The chances!*

We had a clear view straight downtown to the towers from the rear view window. The view of the billowing smoke was unbelievable. Then the first tower fell. Three of us watched it disappear through the window all the way down *Avenue of the Americas.* No words.

I arrived at Central Park West to walk across the whole park at the 79th street pass to my sister’s apartment on the Upper East Side. That was the plan. The Park was so eerie. Quiet, gorgeous. The most beautiful I have ever seen Central Park. Passed walkers, bikers, animals. Pleasant. Quiet. Calm. Nothing like the rest of the city. *Nothing.*

Walking by Turtle Pond, no one had a clue. Kids playing, old folks feeding the birds. Portable radios playing music. Not news, not emergency alerts, just music. I wanted to say something to all these people. *Do you know what’s happened? Do you know what’s going on?* But I still really didn’t know what was happening myself. And I just wanted a familiar face. *I want a hug.*

I reached my sister’s. Sarah beat me there. And we sat, and talked very little. And watched. And watched. As the morning turned into afternoon, we couldn’t look away. So many parts of it. Mouths open. Gasping at the horrors. The news. The news. The news. I remember wondering when we’d hear something good. Even days later, what would the good news be?

As evening approached, we found out buses would be running. Sarah and I left Leann safe. We hopped on a downtown bus and got ourselves back to Brooklyn - a way we would typically never have chose. *I’m home.*

For all those that never came home, and all their families and friends, and all those that risked their lives, lost their lives, the heroes [*just doing their jobs*], you’re remembered, you’re honored. Thank you will never be enough.

This was almost going to be a picture-less post, but…I rode into downtown Manhattan, over the Williamsburg bridge this morning. It was another gorgeous morning, just like 10 years ago. I took one picture. Crystal clear sky, looking north over the East river from the bridge. *Today, I am going to toast this town. It’s my city, after all.*

I’m listening to Paul Simon play live now at the World Trade Center Memorial. I’ll end this here with the *Sound of Silence.*.