Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The financial district downtown at night looked the same as I had always remembered it. Quiet with a few restaurants lit up, an occasional person strolling. The buildings tall and close together, the streets narrow, the sky blocked out. As we got closer to Ground Zero, I could see the expanse of space fenced off. We got out of the taxi and walked to the fencing surrounding it, There were cranes suspended in motion over small hills of rubble of what was now crushed buildings, bodies, office furniture, indistinguishable from any other dust. So much of the area had been cleared away and now it looked almost like any other construction site where ground was being broken. But it was a large field of empty space, and at night and in the silence, it was meditative and solitary like the desert.
Under the light a starless and empty sky, and of streetlamps nearby, I could see makeshift altars on parkbenches strewn with fresh flowers, stuffed animals, fireman's hats, children's drawings, letters, poems, all a bit dampened from the rain earlier, slightly weather worn, attesting to the fact that here was not just dust, but a place where people had lived and died. But now, it was nothing, the dust like desert sands, hardly bearing a trace of those who trod on its earth.
We walked around in silence,the lightness of drink from only an hour earlier had muted into something somber, like the end of a holiday, like the time to turn out the lights, like the time to sleep before a new day. "You probably need to get up early for work tomorrow," I said to Adrian feeling that I wanted to be alone, but he continued to walk with me. "You can leave if you want, I want to go on the Ferry." I felt the impulse to see what the city looked like without the towers, how this deserted space fit into the landscape of the city. Adrian continued to follow in silence, as I walked to the ferry docks, read the schedule to find that I could take the last ferry out. In my childhood, I rode the ferry and recalled clear days watching the city skyline from afar like a miniature snowglobe. Ad I got older, I recalled riding at night, watching the shining lights of the city.
Adrian beside me, we watched as the the ferry pulled out and saw two blue sticks of laser light reaching to the sky in the place where the towers once stood, looking like phantom limbs or something missing. I felt the sting in the eye of the strong winds off the ocean and wanted to cry, I could see it in Adrian's face too. Somewhat drunkenly, I fell into him and his frame jolted into an embrace and into a silent cry. I hadn't cried with or near anyone in a long time, and through tears I watched the landscape before us grow smaller, slipping away, feeling like we were standing over a gravestone or a funeral at sea, shedding tears over the inevitable, the unreturning, over all losses, and over loss itself.
I tried to hold back tears. Closed my eyes and swallowed, imagined that I would wake up days later far away, in an empty meditative desert.
Under the light a starless and empty sky, and of streetlamps nearby, I could see makeshift altars on parkbenches strewn with fresh flowers, stuffed animals, fireman's hats, children's drawings, letters, poems, all a bit dampened from the rain earlier, slightly weather worn, attesting to the fact that here was not just dust, but a place where people had lived and died. But now, it was nothing, the dust like desert sands, hardly bearing a trace of those who trod on its earth.
We walked around in silence,the lightness of drink from only an hour earlier had muted into something somber, like the end of a holiday, like the time to turn out the lights, like the time to sleep before a new day. "You probably need to get up early for work tomorrow," I said to Adrian feeling that I wanted to be alone, but he continued to walk with me. "You can leave if you want, I want to go on the Ferry." I felt the impulse to see what the city looked like without the towers, how this deserted space fit into the landscape of the city. Adrian continued to follow in silence, as I walked to the ferry docks, read the schedule to find that I could take the last ferry out. In my childhood, I rode the ferry and recalled clear days watching the city skyline from afar like a miniature snowglobe. Ad I got older, I recalled riding at night, watching the shining lights of the city.
Adrian beside me, we watched as the the ferry pulled out and saw two blue sticks of laser light reaching to the sky in the place where the towers once stood, looking like phantom limbs or something missing. I felt the sting in the eye of the strong winds off the ocean and wanted to cry, I could see it in Adrian's face too. Somewhat drunkenly, I fell into him and his frame jolted into an embrace and into a silent cry. I hadn't cried with or near anyone in a long time, and through tears I watched the landscape before us grow smaller, slipping away, feeling like we were standing over a gravestone or a funeral at sea, shedding tears over the inevitable, the unreturning, over all losses, and over loss itself.
I tried to hold back tears. Closed my eyes and swallowed, imagined that I would wake up days later far away, in an empty meditative desert.
Labels: Loss
¶ 4:30 PM
