A View From Ground Zero

Chris, Gertie and I live in an apartment that overlooks Ground Zero. And when I say "overlooks Ground Zero", I literally mean that there is nothing between our window and the air above the site. (refer above) We have pipe dreams about charging admission to our apartment, as there is no better view of the site than from our living room. (come one, come all)

I have found our proximity to Ground Zero surprisingly peaceful. There's something undeniably soothing about the constant lull of construction. Its almost as if it talks to us all day and night long, and we've grown accustom to its voice, and what its saying - even though we may not fully understand.

Over the course of the past year, I have met a lot of 9/11 survivors - and I have heard stories of first-hand experiences that I almost can't even believe. When I attempt to write anything about these people, or their stories, my mind goes completely blank - as if there is absolutely nothing I can say.

Because there isn't.

In some way, I think we're all 9/11 survivors - whether you are or were in New York, the US, or the World on that day, I believe everyone survived 9/11 in some capacity. Its an odd kinship that became clear to me the minute I started living here - the minute I started pointing tourists in the right direction, the minute I started watching all the little Lego Men down in the site break ground, the minute I started seeing New York from my window, as I cannot see the City skyline unless I see Ground Zero first. Her biggest wound is in our front yard.

I tend to view the state in which we live as a country and as individuals in these frightening times in generally 2 ways: one can be paranoid, and anxious, or one can simply live, and continue to move forward for as long as one is able to do so.

I really thought I was the latter. I mean, if there's a threat made on the NYC subway system, you can bet I'll walk to wherever I have to be that day - but relatively speaking, I like to believe that life is too short to be paranoid - and ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time is tragic on every level - but it happens. Also, anxiety gives me zits. Uncool.

But two nights ago at 3:06 am, I realized that I am - somewhere inside - paranoid.

All I can really recall is being jolted by the shake of my building at the exact moment that a horrible rumble caused both Chris and I to shoot up out of bed from a deep sleep. Gertie was already awake and alarmed. It wasn't two seconds that went by, and the following thoughts had already raced through my mind:

- We never finalized the "In Case of Emergency" plan with our cousins...Lin and Paul are going to kill us.

- Should I call my parents immediately? How long will the phones be out?

- I thought of every friend I have in this City - even people I work with. I wondered if they were OK.

- I kicked myself for not having bottled water.

- I contemplated what shoes I should put on.

- I hoped Chris wouldn't try and be a hero - but I knew that he would.

- I wondered if all of us (City, US, World) would survive this time.

Chris jumped out of bed and told me to "stay put", and at this moment, I was honestly expecting him to look out our window and see the City ablaze....

.....we then saw the lightening, and realized it was a storm.

Granted, it was the kind of thunder that sends chills down your spine - and to be woken up by it at 3am was unnerving - but I had a moment of panic like I have never experienced before. It was only a split second, but I thoroughly believed that we were under attack.

Several people who were in New York that night thought the same thing. I guess that's another part of the 9/11 kinship that I had yet to realize.