9-11 Morning

This morning at 6:50 I sat at my desk with a heaviness, a sadness, a weight in my heart. It is September 11. The mention of the day evokes deep painful memories. The anniversary of the day creates flashbacks – the blue of the sky, the innocence of a back-to-school Tuesday in early September and the routines of our mornings. The world changed at 8:46.

I sat with a mug of coffee and stare out the window, at the lawn that sweeps down to the water, at the dock and the lounges and the American flag anchored in its spot and swaying with the occasional breeze. The sun was rising. There was the merest hint of it through a break in the thick leaves of the lower branches of the oaks – a bright orangey-yellow triangle peeking at me. It cast a dot of the same color light on the lake. I return to my blank page, my notebook, and my coffee. A minute, maybe two, I look up and the dot has elongated. Hmmm, I said to myself, it looks like a flame. Head down, back to writing.

Maybe five or six minutes pass and I looked up again. I saw a brilliant tower of light, stretching out from the dock, lined up perfectly behind the flag, flashing and shimmering on top of the water with the sun’s full radiance. It was a flaming tower of light. I grabbed my phone to photograph it, knowing full well that from a distance and behind a window the image would lose clarity. But I feared I would miss the moment if I moved. I took eight shots.

Look at this one:


The tower of light that I saw with my eyes came through the lens of the camera as a candle with a small flame atop.

So, this is my blog. Not many words, just a light – a candle to memorialize all who were lost.

Never forget.

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One Response to 9-11 Morning

  1. Elizabeth Van Marter says:


    Never forget.

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