The shakiness, the slight waviness of the twin beams of light toward the middle is due to my unsteady hand trying to make the vertical panoramic shot so I could capture both the earthly skyline and the point where the Tribute in Light disappears into the sky.
Shortly after 9/11/01, I started my career job - my first job that wasn't a stepping stone to something else. Having worked inside BigLaw before as a legal assistant saving up for law school, I knew what I was in for in terms of hours. That horrible event, with all those lives suddenly snuffed out, inspired then a lot of societal reflection, a search for meaning and lessons from the devastation; I had clipped from the newspaper one of the pieces written at the time that resonated with me - an essay about keeping sight of what was truly important (the people we love and experiencing life with them) - and pinned it to my office bulletin board as a reminder. But the job, the industry, got the better of me for almost half of my life till relatively recently - because I had other insecurities that the breakneck pace and responding to the neverending demands assuaged, in part. And then I woke up two decades later and realized I had given too much to them.
On 9/11 anniversaries past, I used to struggle just to get out in time even to see the Tribute, even when the office was mere blocks away. I recall a few years the lights were dimmed while I was still inside toiling away. I had the clipped essay at the back of my mind, but didn't feel I could do anything about it - the hamster wheel was spinning so fast that I thought if I stopped, its remaining momentum would fling me out with lethal force against the glass sides of the cage. And so I kept running, until I felt on the verge of breaking, and knew I had to risk getting off the wheel.
By contrast, this year, I left the office a bit after 5. I met up with a particularly friendly friend to catch up, after a week away with the family. We went to see the Elephant Migration in the Meatpacking District. And then headed into Brooklyn to calmly wait for the sunset, and then for the Tribute to become visible. We talked about family and friends and planned future excursions.
It took almost half my lifetime thus far (and then the trauma of a different mass death event - the global pandemic), but I am finally letting that clipped essay actually guide me away from fear and toward living.
