My home, My city.

Today was a gorgeous day, and the harbor view was as clear as could be.  Seeing the view of the city and knowing it’s been nine years that way, always catches me by surprise. A sense of loss really hits me still, when I have a hard time recognizing the skyline I had always remembered.

Having lived in London from 2001-2003, I really felt a sense of having lived in a state of uncertainty, and being connected and disconnected from the events that took place.  Going home early on the bus in the afternoon, and listening to real-time events on the radio will always stick with me.  Being picked up from the bust stop by parents, walking home, and seeing the newspaper men trying to sell news that occurred in the morning.  Knowing at that moment across the ocean, there was something terrible occurring.  Seeing my mother crying (who never cries), and knowing her fondness for the building having worked there in the 80’s.  Seeing a sudden change in security going to school, meeting my dad at his work, barricades erupting around the embassy overnight.

All of this, I had running in my mind when I was sitting on the ferry, getting ever so closer to Manhattan.  My love for this city will always be with me, I’ve known it since I was young.

The city will always be the bustling hub of mixing, mingling, co-existing.  That’s the best way to heal, and to move forward.

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