Ten years ago today I sat upon my rooftop in Brooklyn, smoking a blunt, convinced the world was ending. I had woken up late for school, so my mom told me to take the day off. I went about my day, proceeding to my roof for a quick wake & bake. She said something was wrong with the tv, that something had hit the world trade center. But no more was really being said at that time.
At the time she & I lived in a modest sized 1 bedroom in the heart of BedStuy. What most people never say about the beauty of Brooklyn is that there is a gorgeous view of the manhattan skyline from most rooftops. It was my favorite place to go to when I wanted to cleanse my mind & relax.
That morning I rolled up my Dutch Master not noticing the billowing smoke in the distance. I remember thinking how foggy it was in lower manhattan on such a beautiful fall day. It was sunny out & the sun brought a false sense of a lingering summer.
I remember blowing out smoke and confusing it with what was already floating in the air. I watched the catastrophe in puzzlement. What could've caused that much smoke? Seconds later I got my answer as I watched the 2nd plane hit. A plane. An airplane full of people. And then it happened. They fell. One, and then the other. It looked like a mushroom cloud after the atomic bomb. A modern Hiroshima in the middle of the morning. That was the first time ever in my life that I was so grateful to wake up late. I got on my knees giving praise to the universe for sparing my life. Knowing that had I been on time that day, I would have been on a train under one of those buildings. I would have been joining the numerous unfortunate souls under a rubble of death. The rest of the day I spent in a state of shock with my best friend at the time. We immediately grabbed her kids from school under the fear that another attack was imminent. It never happened but in Brooklyn, the fear was enough of a motivation to bring us together, just in case.
Every year since, I have watched the memorials over the gaping hole that once was NYC's greatest architectural achievement. Now a mass grave of countless unknown civilians and heroes we'll never know. Hundreds of people that will never again get the opportunity of life that I was given. I shed a tear, light a candle, and change the channel.
Now ten years later, the hole remains, the MTA is too broke to finish construction of the terminal, WTC is no where near finished but the memorial is done. All the names of all the lives lost surrounding a hole in the ground.
To this day our country tries to convince us that terrorists orchestrated these tragic events. And we believe it because its easier to justify senseless loss of life if there is a bad guy to blame. Someone to go after and punish and hold accountable for actions even it was someone/thing else. No one likes to feel betrayed by those that should be protecting them. So every year, for this one day,m I forget everything I know to be true. I forget all the things that just don't add up (like all the random healthy heroes making millions while the real surviving heroes suffer in silence from lung disease caused by the debris they inhaled.. Or the millions of government subsidies given to NY state intended for business' that wanted to rent space in the new WTC being given to businesses in Westchester County & Brooklyn, etc). I pretend I know nothing and take the day to morn the loss of my fellowq NY'ers and be thankful for the life I still have.
Love & Light
