Vulnerable
Last night we watched 9/11: In Memoriam, which originally ran on the first anniversary of September 11. The Canuck and I sat through it as slack-jawed as we did the first time we saw it. It brought back that plume of smoke I saw coming from the first tower as I walked to the subway in Brooklyn. It reminded me of how the downtown apartment we were camped out in that day shook when 7 World Trade Center fell late in the afternoon. I recalled the nightmares I used to have about bodies plummeting from buildings. I thought of how for a year afterward, I used to take the bus to work sometimes instead of the subway in what felt like a game of transportation Russian roulette. Death felt as if it hinged on the smallest decisions, and I felt crazy trying to make them.
The documentary contained an image I didn't recall from the first time I saw it. A woman, escorted by a police officer, was trying to navigate away from ground zero with her small daughter in a stroller. Her Maclaren, just like the one I push Muffin around in, was covered in debris. The mom was wearing a mask over her face, but of course her toddler had pulled hers off.
Five years ago, I had been dating the Canuck for less than six months. We were fiercely in love, but we hadn't yet had the chance to create the I've-seen-you-in-Spanx-and-still-love-you superglue bond we have now. And of course these days we have our little Muffin. There are fleeting moments where I wish I had nothing, because then there would be nothing to lose.
Some people say we've been too quick to forget. I don't think anyone who was here could ever do that, although honestly sometimes I wish I could. But I do try to push the crazy-making thoughts down. One cannot contemplate mortality on a daily basis and be a productive human being. I couldn't continue to live that way then, and with so much more at stake, I definitely can't live that way now.
In less than an hour, it will no longer be September 11. Soon I will regale you with tales and photos from my vacation on Long Beach Island. But right now I'm going to sneak into my daughter's room to peek at her once more before bed.
The documentary contained an image I didn't recall from the first time I saw it. A woman, escorted by a police officer, was trying to navigate away from ground zero with her small daughter in a stroller. Her Maclaren, just like the one I push Muffin around in, was covered in debris. The mom was wearing a mask over her face, but of course her toddler had pulled hers off.
Five years ago, I had been dating the Canuck for less than six months. We were fiercely in love, but we hadn't yet had the chance to create the I've-seen-you-in-Spanx-and-still-love-you superglue bond we have now. And of course these days we have our little Muffin. There are fleeting moments where I wish I had nothing, because then there would be nothing to lose.
Some people say we've been too quick to forget. I don't think anyone who was here could ever do that, although honestly sometimes I wish I could. But I do try to push the crazy-making thoughts down. One cannot contemplate mortality on a daily basis and be a productive human being. I couldn't continue to live that way then, and with so much more at stake, I definitely can't live that way now.
In less than an hour, it will no longer be September 11. Soon I will regale you with tales and photos from my vacation on Long Beach Island. But right now I'm going to sneak into my daughter's room to peek at her once more before bed.
posted by Muffin's Mom at 9:54 PM
3 Comments:
Oh Sash,
2001 was also the year I last saw you in NYC. I still remember how in love (and in lust) you were back then with the Canuck! And still are!
I also remember the day (barely 2 months after I returned from NYC) when the Twin Tower was hit. I was working in my office when Honour my American colleague rang and asked me to check out CNN when (of course) all the servers were down. It was horrific even for us who were not in NYC.
I also understand what it is like to face the evitability of death when we now have another life which we treasure (at times) more than our own. The thought of me leaving Camilla behind is simply unbearable. Then again, this is the nature of life, death awaits us. It is easy to be worried about terrorism especially after all the big cooking up the media and other political machineries have worked against us, we can also forget the smallest things when we are so focused on the newly labeled 'evil'.
Coming from a Muslim family made me feel rotten that (the worst which has happened out of all this) the gap between races are now further apart than ever.
I also go in to have a peep (several times) at Milla sleeping every night. It is so sweet don't you think?
Kisses.
The fear is always within us. I remember the day, my dad was supposed to fly out of Dulles to go to India. I remember trying to call you and the rest of the girls, and just freaking out. The sadness and horror will never really go away, it will just lessen with time. Give Muffin a hug and kiss from me too. Love, Sun
I can't believe it. You wrote about 9/11 and made me laugh. The Spanx line slayed me...
Post a Comment
<< Home