It is the day before the now famous, 9/11. I live in New York and am looking at the immaculate blue sky, remembering the day before the tragedy nine years ago. It was raining, and I had written a poem about the rain and how once it stopped the city was cleansed as in a baptism. I did not know the next day everything would change. So I remember 9/10 as much as 9/11, as I'm sure most New Yorkers do. Fall here in the Northeast is a beauty. I flip flop through the humidity and heat of its summers just to get to this point: Autumn. Frank Sinatra said it best. That we had such a horrendous crime committed to us during such a glorious season is truly an addition to the heartbreak.
Tomorrow the names will be read, the bells rung, and our hearts will ache all over again. I will be in Boston with my daughter. This will be my first 9/11 not in NYC. At the exact time I am writing this blog to you, I see that it is also the time when the first plane hit. It has caused our Country to come unglued, yet we will survive on many levels and manners. Hatred, we will find is never the answer nor is revenge. Love is our salvation. A continuous baptism of the heart.
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