A coworker of mine whom I've become quite friendly with over the course of
the past few months is a transplanted New Yorker, which makes her, in my
books, a good egg. We spend some time everyday immersed in idle chit-chat
about the common things transplanted NY'ers discuss, mainly endless
comparisons and fault-findings of Los Angeles (but always agree that the
weather is nice). Today, things got a bit deeper as we both shared our
September 11th experiences.
As an eyewitness, I have the natural
inkling to compare others' experiences to my own. This unconscious act of
gauging the significance of others' experiences to my own initially leads
to one of two feelings. The most common of the two is that I feel
resentment towards those who were not in the downtown area. Their
experiences seem disingenuous, lacking in any form of substance that would
cause them to feel grief or depression. An example: "I was at home in
front of the television watching the towers fall. I felt so bad I cried."
On the other hand, when someone who witnessed the event directly recounts
his or her experiences, I feel an instant and deep bond. Listening to a
person re-tell the event from his or her perspective is a liberating
feeling. It is always the same, no matter who is telling the story. The
tone of the voice, the look in the eyes as the person fights back the
tears, and the nervousness; we all share these feelings. We are all
connected by an event that has forever changed the way in which we view
the world. It is difficult to articulate to others how a single event that
lasted only a few fleeting hours can have such a deep impact. It just
does.
My coworker was on 14th street; I was across the street. Our
perspectives were much different, but we were both there.
Last year,
I moved out to Los Angeles to start a new life. I wanted to live life out
of the shadow of September 11th. Being here, life is different. I'm
happier. I'm more relaxed, and there are few, if any, reminders of that
day. At first, it was a bit strange living in a place that has the exact
same weather as that day, every day. I've gotten used to it, and the
thought only passes through my mind for only a few brief seconds every
day. When sirens screech past my apartment, I don't flinch, as their tone
does not have the deep bellow and echo of those amidst the walled-up
streets of Manhattan. More importantly, I don't have to relive the same
day here in LA. I don't walk to the train station to get to the train that
takes me to Grand Central Station to take the 4-5 subway... no more. Most
of all, I don't have to look at the Manhattan skyline and see the gap, the
missing pieces of a once-complete set.
My coworker gave me something
great today. She gave me a connection, a piece to my past. I might have
moved thousands of miles away, but i brought with me memories. For as much
as I want to live life like a person who wasn't there on September 11th,
free from the burden, I feel better knowing that there are others here,
like me, who also carry the weight.