DAY 6
A PROBLEM SOLVERS ADVERTISEMENT RUNS ON CHANNEL 5 FOX NEWS TONIGHT. WE'RE TRYING, FUTILELY, TO GET BACK TO NORMAL, SO IT'S THE FIRST COMMERCIAL I'VE SEEN IN A WEEK. I FIND IT IRONIC; I WANT TO CALL THEM AND ASK THEM TO TURN BACK TIME--ONE WEEK TOMORROW MORNING, SINCE OUR LIVES CHANGED IN A SONIC LIKE BOOM HEARD THROUGH THE CANYONS OF NEW YORK CITY. WE GRIEVE UNIQUELY, FEELING THE ACUTE LOSS OF A FAMILY MEMBER OR DEAR FRIEND, A SIMMERING HEARTBREAK OVER AQUIANTENCES.
LOST AND ASSUMING THE COLLECTIVE PAIN OF MANY DESPITE EXTREME FORTUNE. I HAD THOUGHT I WAS IN THE LAST CATAGORY, BUT THIS IS TOO, TOO HUGE A LOSS. WITH EACH DAY, I HEAR OF MORE PEOPLE, EVER ENCROACHING ON MY SAFE AND SECURE CIRCLE OF FRIENDS. THERE ARE THOSE WHO FEEL SO GUILTY FOR LIVING OR FOR HAVING FRIENDS AND FAMILY INTACT, THAT THEY DO NOT ALLOW THEMSELVES TO MOURN.
I WALK THE STREETS OF NYC, RESONABLY HAPPY IN MY GOOD LITTLE LIFE, OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE, I SEE A POSTER OF A MISSING PERSON. NORMALLY, EVEN IN GOTHAM, THIS WOULD ILLICIT INTEREST AND SCRUTINY, BUT SADLY, IT DOES NOT. I KNOW IF I WERE TO READ IT'S CONTENTS, IT WOULD BE A MOTHER OR A FATHER OR A DAUGHTER OR A SON. MY BREATHE WOULD QUICKED AND MY EYES WOULD TEAR.
I UNDERSTAND HOW AND WHY SOME DO NOT FEEL JUSTIFIED IN ANY BUT THE MOST DIRECT PAIN. BUT I SAY THIS GRIEF IS OURS TO SHARE. WE MUST SHARE IT BECAUSE IT CAN NOT BE BORE WITHOUT IT; WE MUST EMBRACE IT FOR A TIME SO PROPER HEALING CAN BEGIN. WE'LL HAVE OUR SKYLINE YET, OUR HEARTS WILL MEND LATER, BUT IT WILL HAPPEN, AS IT MUST. WE, HUMANS, ARE RESILIENT AND HIGHLY ADAPTIVE.
I MUST SAY, HOWEVER, THE SIGHT OF A FIRE STATION STOPS MY HEART. THE MEN MILLING AROUND, THOSE WHO'VE COME TO LEAVE A CANDLE OR FLOWERS OR TO SIMPLY PAY TRIBUTE OR TAKE PHOTOGRAPHS. THE TABLES OF DONATIONS AND HOME COOKED MEALS IN THE BACKGROUND LOOK OUT OF PLACE. A QUIET FIREMAN SITS AWAY FROM THE OTHERS SMOKING, ANGUISH ON HIS FACE. HE LOST HALF HIS FIREHOUSE. I WATCH HIM FIND SOMETHING AMUSING AND LAUGH. I SMILE, TOO, KNOWING THIS IS A RARITY: TO LAUGH, THE SMILE, TO FEEL LIGHTHEARTED. A MIDSTS THE BEAUTIFUL, BEST OF HUMANITY, NYC IS AN OPPRESSIVE PLACE RIGHT NOW.
AT NIGHT, THESE FIRESTATIONS TWINKLE DOWN THE STILL-NOT-FULL-CAPACITY STREETS. THEY ARE ALIGHT WITH CANDLES AND THE GROUND IS MOLTED COLOR OF THE WAX FROM NIGHTS PAST. THE FLOWERS ARE MANY AND NOW, THERE ARE TRIBUTE BOARDS TO THE MEMBERS WHO WERE LOST. SOMEONE WITH DAYS TO KEEP BUSY, OCCUPIED, SANE. I AM MESMERATED BY THE BEAUTY AND SERENITY AND YES, SADDENED BY IT.
I'D ASK THE PROBLEM SOLVERS TO DO WHAT THEY COULD TO PREVENT THE ASSAULT ON MY EMOTIONS. I ABSORB THE COLLECTIVE LOSS AND PAIN OF MY HOME. THESE MEMORIALS WILL LAST A LONG TIME, I KNOW. BUT WHEN THEY DO FADE, AS THEY MUST, I'LL ONLY HAVE TO LOOK SOUTH, (OR IS IT NORTH?), AND FEEL DISORIENTED AND CONFUSED WITHOUT MANHATTAN'S MOST VAST, AND TAKED FOR GRANTED, VISUAL ANCHORS.