Listened to the incantation of names; watched the spouses and partners on television. Later, caught a few minutes of Bush using the day as an opportunity to justify his war; watched ABC’s fictionmentary about real events, real people,
It was already 12:15 a.m. on September 12th when I took a walk down Seventh Avenue to see the light.
The light was shooting up from the top of PS 321 in the midnight blue sky. Above Key Food, Old First Church. The light walked with me down the Avenue (shopping list: Spoon size Shredded Wheat, Raisin Bran, ballpoint pens for TC, orange juice).
The beam of light was sharp, beautiful (there may be two, but out here in Park Slope it looks like a single beam). I wish it was here every night and of course I do not.
Presence. Absence. It speaks of loss, while introducing something dramatic and new to the city night.
The shop lights were on at Sweet Melissa’s, where a crew was busy getting the shop ready for its grand opening on Wednesday. Paper covering counters, tools everywhere, the name being stenciled onto the front window. Something new.
Except for the Korean Market on Garfield, Key Food, Pino’s, nothing was open on Seventh Avenue; it was desserted. A few stragglers at Snooky’s (for a moment I thought I might go in and order a scotch, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do). Workers standing outside of Starbucks waiting for a car; voices inside the playground; a dog walker or two.
Back on Third Street the light comes out from behind the limestone buildings. Blue television light illuminates a checkerboard of windows; time to go upstairs. Wanting: to stand outside; to be the only only there at that moment; quiet, alone.
Tuesday is Election Day.
I watched the lights as well, last night, as I walked home, in the dark, through the Lawn of Prospect Park. As a memorial they are powerful, simple, and direct. For me they are a prayer reaching from the wounded earth into the clarity of heaven. As I trudged through the ball fields, the lights traveled with me, over the treetops. How much more wonderful, I thought, than any combination of glitzy towers, like those we saw in the morning Times.