A common phrase since 9/11 is "We Will Never Forget." I'm sure nobody ever will forget the horrors of that day r those that followed. Images emblazoned in our minds whether we like it or not. I, like many Americans, especially New Yorkers, cried when the towers fell. To many, they were a symbol of the New York skyline. To me, a symbol of my youth.
Growing up in Brooklyn, I could see a few things from my bedroom windows. To the south I could see the Williamburgh clock tower. At night, lit to tell me just what time my parents had let me stay up, well past my bedtime. To the north, with a little stretching and some clear skies, I could see the top of the towers. Living in Brooklyn, I don't remember calling them the towers. I remember them as the World Trade Centers. The towers seems to be a catchy media term that's much easier to say. I remember going on top as a child and being in awe, not of the views, not of the people who looked like ants below. No, I remember being in awe of how the slightest breeze brought on an anxious feeling. One that made you feel, that if the wind had been stronger, and my mother wasn't grasping my little hand, you might just fly away and maybe even end up in Brooklyn.
I recently saw a picture of a sunset view of the skyline from the Brooklyn Promenade. The promenade was where I viewed the fireworks during the centennial for the Brooklyn Bridge in 1983. I moved from Brooklyn twenty-five years ago. I haven't been back often and only once did I go to the Promenade. It dawned on me, while looking at the picture, that the last time I was there, the World Trade Centers still stood tall. The last time I was near the place they know call Ground Zero, a few years later, they were still there. It was a little jarring.
A trip down to Brooklyn is coming up. This time around, I'm going to make a point to go to the promenade. I'm going to stand there. I'll remember the childhood memories standing there with friends and family, watching break dancers and fireworks, young couples in love and old ones too. I'm going to gaze and think about the changes. Sometimes for us in Westchester it's almost like an illusion. I know for me, as I stand there as an adult, I will know that not only is that symbol of our city gone, but a tangible memory from my youth. Something that made me realize how small I really was. Somehow now, my childhood, like those grandiose towers, seems like they never were. Unfortunately, there are somethings in our lives we do forget. We need pictures, sounds, or smells to remind us. Sometimes the mind tells us they were just a mirage. I want to stand there, soak it all in. Part of it is gone, parts of it look different. The place is still there, both in reality and in the depths of my mind. It will take me back to when I was a child. When none of it mattered.
Growing up in Brooklyn, I could see a few things from my bedroom windows. To the south I could see the Williamburgh clock tower. At night, lit to tell me just what time my parents had let me stay up, well past my bedtime. To the north, with a little stretching and some clear skies, I could see the top of the towers. Living in Brooklyn, I don't remember calling them the towers. I remember them as the World Trade Centers. The towers seems to be a catchy media term that's much easier to say. I remember going on top as a child and being in awe, not of the views, not of the people who looked like ants below. No, I remember being in awe of how the slightest breeze brought on an anxious feeling. One that made you feel, that if the wind had been stronger, and my mother wasn't grasping my little hand, you might just fly away and maybe even end up in Brooklyn.
I recently saw a picture of a sunset view of the skyline from the Brooklyn Promenade. The promenade was where I viewed the fireworks during the centennial for the Brooklyn Bridge in 1983. I moved from Brooklyn twenty-five years ago. I haven't been back often and only once did I go to the Promenade. It dawned on me, while looking at the picture, that the last time I was there, the World Trade Centers still stood tall. The last time I was near the place they know call Ground Zero, a few years later, they were still there. It was a little jarring.
A trip down to Brooklyn is coming up. This time around, I'm going to make a point to go to the promenade. I'm going to stand there. I'll remember the childhood memories standing there with friends and family, watching break dancers and fireworks, young couples in love and old ones too. I'm going to gaze and think about the changes. Sometimes for us in Westchester it's almost like an illusion. I know for me, as I stand there as an adult, I will know that not only is that symbol of our city gone, but a tangible memory from my youth. Something that made me realize how small I really was. Somehow now, my childhood, like those grandiose towers, seems like they never were. Unfortunately, there are somethings in our lives we do forget. We need pictures, sounds, or smells to remind us. Sometimes the mind tells us they were just a mirage. I want to stand there, soak it all in. Part of it is gone, parts of it look different. The place is still there, both in reality and in the depths of my mind. It will take me back to when I was a child. When none of it mattered.
You better let me know when you are coming to Brooklyn!
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