(I wrote this about the night of 9/10/01 a few weeks later. I just remembered it as I was trying to sort my thoughts about what to do tonight and tomorrow, ten years later!!! There are so many feelings. I thought you might want to see this. I wonder where you were and what you were doing the evening 'before?' I'd love to hear. It all seemed so much simpler then, didn't it?; I was just getting emergency checks at the bank until my new checkbook arrived, stuff like that. MPK)
Did I look at them that last night, did I remember to look out the window, oh, I must have but I’m not sure, there was a time when I first moved here that I couldn’t get my bed close enough to the window, wanted to make sure I could see the view all night long, I don’t know how I thought I could see it while I was sleeping.
I loved that view; I spent hours looking across the river at it; in the beginning I photographed out my windows every morning.
When company came, they were forced to look out and admire, if they stayed overnight, they had to look at the skyline in various lights, shades, mists, by day and night. If the company wasn’t wildly enthusiastic about the view, they probably wouldn’t be asked back. (Same as with my cats, a certain amount of attention must be given).
But, over time, as with anything --- if you live on the ocean, if you live in the Alps, you stop noticing. Oh, it isn’t that the view is any less fabulous but it is matter of fact to you now, sad but true, maybe if you are married to someone very handsome that happens --- “oh, him” you say when someone comments on his good looks, but I don’t know about that.
Eventually, it seems, we take everything for granted. More than that, we assume we will be able to see it or him tomorrow or the next day. Ho, hum, oh, look at my beautiful view. On Lake Como at the top of Italy across from the Alps, people that live there seem shocked at my obsession; my eyes can’t work hard enough. But, this is what they know, this is their view constantly; they went to grade school up on the hill above the lake. This is normal to them.
So, did I look out at them, the tall lonely towers, that Monday night, or, that Tuesday morning before I went to vote? I hope so. Did I look out with wonder at the skyline of downtown Manhattan, right out there through the trees, past that one splendid church spire on my side, the Brooklyn side. I loved the shape of the skyline then, the jaggedness of it, the two tall pillars, setting off all the rest, the irregularity of it, in hindsight, was what made the view so powerful --- now it is so similar, too neat. I loved it on bright days and more so on pale muted ones; I loved the way the skies changed, wound around, clouds rose and swooped. In the rain, you couldn’t see at all and then the mists would slowly rise. And, I loved the view in the dark, all twinkly and jewel-like, winking at me.
But, that last night, I was working on a story in the other room; I answered phone calls there too. It was late; I was tired and daydreaming about my story, the way I do when I get into something.
Did I just fall into bed across from where they quietly stood or did I remember to look out and say ‘GOODNIGHT’?
by Mary Pat Kane, written somewhere after 9/11/01
posted on the evening of 9/10/11
GOODNIGHT
