For 16 years my body has never failed to fall into a pattern of instinct and memory as the mornings start off cool and the skies reflect a clarity without the haze of summer heat. It’s the drawing down of the growing season, it’s the beginning of the earth breathing green and gold and blue, it’s the reliving of the day that threw my life into a vortex of depression and sadness. It’s been a hard climb, and on this day, it remains a hard climb. It’s a part of me that doesn’t seem to want to change, rock hard and stubborn in the belief that some things should not be forgotten.
This is my 13th diary written on September 11.
As the rest of the population moves forward, New York City always takes a breath and a break. No matter what, and for years and decades to come, the attack that ravaged the city cannot and won’t be forgotten.
Om Shanti… shanti shanti om
Climbing out of the blue to the peace and life in the garden.
>x*x<