september 12: the day i became a new yorker

Me at Journal Square (September 12, 2001)

The ten year anniversary has come and gone. I spent the day with the turtle. In typical fashion, the afternoon was spent, dancing, singing and drinking milk. The turtle climbed onto the jungle gym, unassisted, for the first time. He was ran over by a kid on a bike (everyone's fine). And he played hide and seek with a little girl in a pink shirt. The memorial was on for awhile. It was the background noise while Chris and I drank coffee and ate croissants. But we turned off the television long before the ceremony's end.

I don't remember a lot about September 11, 2001. We were new to the city, having just arrived a few months before. Chris has a clearer memory of the day's events. After all, he watched the second tower fall from our doorstep. We lived just a little over a mile away on the other side of the Hudson River.

No, it is today, September 12, that I remember. The day that we all began to crawl out of our cocoons. The day we began hugging strangers. The day we kept vigilance, not for sight of the next attack, but for sight of someone in need. The air was still thick with smoke, and the victims' faces though now cleared of white ash were still ashen with shock and grief. But there was a sense of solidarity, community, and reslience.

I think today is my anniversary. Yes, I'm certain of it. September 12, 2001 was the day I became a New Yorker.