Today. What a brilliant blue sky day. Just like that day. That day. How many times did I look up and remember?

That day.

At one time it seemed like September 11th would never be a normal day. No birthday celebrations, block parties, shopping trips, normal activities on that day that was anything but normal in 2001.

But today on the streets there was the crowded energy and excitement of a typical early fall weekend. The fashion shows in Manhattan, the Brooklyn Book Festival, the Brooklyn Flea, farmer’s markets in parks around town, streets closed for block parties.

It really did feel like a normal Saturday.

So it was startling to come upon a candle on a stoop and a handmade sign which read: “There is not enough darkness in the world to extinguish the light of just one candle.”

In the years after 9/11, this was a day of mourning and service: we cried, we sat quietly remembering our friends, our city; we were encouraged to do something good for others, for the world. We relived the emotion, the commotion, the revulsion of that day. The waiting, the hoping the missing would return, the wondering if there really were people in those “voids”.

Who can forget the way the city smelled in the days and  months after, when people searched the site for the remains of their friends?

And the first anniversary, the solemn intonation of the voices reading the names of their loved ones.

We didn’t think our city would ever be the same. We didn’t think we’d ever stop waving at firetrucks. We didn’t think we’d ever really relax on bridges, tunnels and trains…

It’s not that we’ve forgotten, it’s that we’ve gradually moved along despite our ever repeating memories of that day and all that came after.

But all it takes is a brilliant blue sky day to remember that which we can never forget.