Life is full of unexpected twists and turns that can send you on a roller coaster of emotions. Being a New Yorker, I've become familiar with having good and bad moments within the same day. The day can start off melancholy when you wake up early for school on Monday morning but get a little bit more pleasant as you walk down Lexington Avenue window-shopping with your fresh Starbucks Pumpkin Spice in hand. However, my experience juxtaposed this somewhat blissful day. It began decent and should have gotten better, but instead put me into a four day long depression.
I decided to go home to Brooklyn and be with my parents for the weekend. You know, do some laundry, have some dinner, talk about how awful it is to be living in one of the greatest cities in the world. (Just kidding). But now it was Friday night and it was time to see one of my best friends. I decided I wanted to take her around the city, mostly downtown and grab a bite to eat. Things were going as they normally did until I took it upon myself to be spontaneous and invite some other friends. I should have known things were not going to be good when my driving skills seemed to be looking less like skills and more like incapabilities. Even pulling over was becoming a hassle…as seen by the scuff I left on the innocent 2010 Mercedes Benz I victimized. I ended up paying my dues to the owner of the vehicle once her husband pulled up and harassed me with questions. But regardless it was still a Friday night and I was not about to go home so my friends and I voyaged to the city in search of The Creperie. AKA, the hole in the wall that makes the greatest crepes in the World.
I had my GPS, but still managed to make a completely wrong turn and end up going towards MMC. Once I got my bearings straight and arrived to The Creperie it seemed that the night was going to end off on a good note. I was wrong. Intelligent me decided not to turn my GPS back on and use whatever knowledge I had, or lack of the city streets at the time to find the Brooklyn Bridge. Needless to say I ended up following the signs for the Manhattan Bridge and ended up on Vesey Street. Now I knew where I was- Ground Zero. The one place I try my best to stay away from.
Time does not heal. And you don't forgive and forget. I don't at least. It's not easy for me to accurately describe the emotions I feel about September 11th. Sad? No, that's not strong enough. Vengeful? That's not Christian-like. So what am I allowed to feel? Well, as a New Yorker, valiant and unyielding. Don't be mistaken, I was terrified that day, that week, that year. Both my parents were in Manhattan and I could see the towers collapse from my fifth floor classroom in P.S. 176, but there was a certain implicit warmth felt between New Yorkers in the following weeks. I could still feel it as I drove past Ground Zero that night. I could feel the tears I cried that day and hear the screams in the streets. I could see the pictures from all the magazines and newspapers of people injured, killed, or jumping to their deaths. I could feel it all as I tried so hard to stay within the solid white lines as I drove by. My heart felt heavy from all the emotions running through my mind and in my blood and as hard as I tried I could not speak the rest of the drive home.
Somehow I made one simple right turn and found myself on my way to the FDR going towards the Brooklyn Bridge. It was as if God had wanted to remind me of the horror of that day or of how grateful I should be to have my parents unlike so many of the children who had lost theirs.
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