For those who were in NYC, I can’t imagine the shock of seeing the skyline emptied of those two massive towers. Like symbols of our core beliefs, they stood tall and proud, as straight as the backs of our soldiers, as brilliant as the sun on a cloudless day.
A few years back we took down a massive oak that provided much needed shade in a corner of our patio. It had become diseased, and with hurricane season right around the corner, it was time to remove the risk. The tree removal crew showed up and began taking it down. It was an all day job – one I couldn’t watch. I’m probably considered a bit odd, but I was teary eyed and sad. The branches trembled and shook as they were slowly removed. Just as I expected, the gap left presented a strange sight, and it seemed as if our yard would never look right again. The tree’s canopy no longer offered shelter and the squirrels were in a snit. Who knows how many birds lost a nest, their sanctuary gone. Slowly over time, we became used to the altered view. The tree next to this one could now grow straighter, instead of listing to the left, it’s previous pitiful attempts at capturing it’s share of the sun no longer challenged.
I imagine the skyline appeared to NY’ers like that, a massive hole deep and wide – the kind of hole that can’t be filled by anything but the course of time. The skyline, altered forever, would have appeared bizarre and foreign, with the sun shining where it shouldn’t, and other buildings no longer sheltered by the gigantic structures. The shade and shadow of the towers gone, like two massive trees felled, I still think of those who came only with the expectations of providing for their families, and like birds and squirrels scattered about on branches, their view of the world was sky high and full of promise.
When the huge oak in front of my parent’s house was removed, the neighborhood actually mourned the loss. There’s something about how trees nurture nature and shelter all of us. I’m not saying that our oak in any way compares to the terrible loss of life on 9/11 but my mom and dad changed when the tree came down and we were all altered on that beautiful blue-skied day in September.
Right. Not meant to compare, only to underscore the point if we could feel that emptiness over a tree, imagine how it must have been for NYC.
We live less than two hours away. Responders were lined up on the highways trying to get into the city to help. At the end of the day families gathered in the commuter parking lots at the train stations from here to down-state to see who’d return to get their cars. It still breaks my heart, still brings me to tears how the families waited for loved ones who never returned to pick up their cars and go home.
Your post is lovely Donna.
And for those who had the real experiences (like the one you mention) the rest of us only had the ones from our TV’s – and that was too much.
Thank you for the compliment – I could have gone on, but really, there’s no need. We get it.