2 years ago, I lived alone, had no boyfriend, and was unemployed. I had no schedule and no commitment to be with anyone or be anywhere. I am pacing, I am pacing. I don't like this. I wanted to write something, and I am getting aggravated. I need air. I need exercise, I need to breathe. I can do this. OK, where was I? For those first few weeks, I did 3 things - slept, watch TV, and roamed around the city on my bike. The bike riding was good, but it started off in the safest, smallest of circles in and around the neighborhood. Checking, checking on things - trees, sidewalks, parks, still there, still there. Each night I got a little closer down there, and at one point, lost with some cops stopping me and telling me I can't go in the direction I was heading in. I stammered something about trying to get back to the Lower East Side, one guy pointed me in the right direction, patted me on the back like a little lost child, and told me to take care of myself. My brain is filling up with teeny tiny memories like that; the handful of candles down the street here with crayon-drawn signs in hope that there'd be survivors. Imagine that? Today I am reading that the last person rescued was at around noon on the 12th, and yet I seem to remember weeks of digging and praying. My schoolteacher friend in tears in the middle of Ave A, 2 days after, having had a long day of calming and nurturing his kids, and no one to calm or nurture him.
No point, no point at all to this. I need to be at work in an hour, and I thankfully have tomorrow off, all to myself. I think a heavy dose of merely being outside, staying away from this little tiny place that was my refuge, but each noise from the outside world reminds me of those days, and I feel it would be better to be out there, rather than struggling inside. The weather promises to be nearly identical to 2 years ago - sunny, 70's, a handful of clouds. But the odd thing about the fall of 2001 was, cliche' as it sounds, falling back in love with this city. On the 13th, I emailed my relatives with a brief "I'm OK - here's a few thoughts" letter - for some reason I had to declare, to them, to myself maybe, that this is my home, there's no place I'd rather be. Tomorrow should be the day to act on that, and to experience the world just outside my door.