In the end, it is the sky that day that haunts me. A sky so purely, brilliantly, heartbreakingly blue. Cloudless. Endless.
I have a tendency to gaze at the sky, finding such beauty in this marvel of nature. Driving to work that day, I remember the intense blueness. And then, driving home mid-morning in a surreal reverse traffic jam, blinked at the brightness, the sun climbing higher, my panic rising as I drove to my children's school.
My husband and I arrived home at the same time. We had left on a bad note that morning. A silly argument, who knows what it was. Now we gripped each other. Held tight.
We turned on the television, not believing our eyes. In that brilliant sky, flames, smoke, terror. Crumbling buildings. It was hours until we heard, thank God, that family members who worked at the Towers were safe.
Today, and every September 11, I will remember. The innocent lives that were lost. Children who were now parentless. Our lives changing forever.
And that impossibly blue sky.
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