BEING HERE - 9 September 2011

9th September 2011 Part II  

It's challenging to be in New York now, for many reasons, not the least of it being the imminent 10th Anniversary of 9/11. There's a palpable tension in the air. Today I notice an increase in police helicopters over the river. Bridges and tunnels are on alert. It's hard not to be just a bit afraid. And of course, it's non-stop media.  Everyone seems to have to have their say, to make some kind of point, to tie it up, voice despair, to judge what happened and why and how it was dealt with; to opine as to what might have happened if only...Some literary types even try to interject poetry. Please. I have no idea what to feel. Well, that's not true. I'm just avoiding it. Because really, what I feel is a deep sadness for the all of it.

It's hard to equate this with the recent memories that pay random visits daily, sometimes hourly: the lavender fields of Provence, the clink-clink-clink of the wind-swished bamboo grove at Les Trois Sources; a mouthful of sun-hot cherries, the sea at St.Tropez, fading now into the summer night as we sit on the terrace with glasses of vanilla ice-cream. A trail of morning mist floats to my mind, right there in the Ligurian mountains. The cows must be mooing toward midnight on our Tuscan Farm and Gianni and Luana are probably gazing at the stars.

We ate some sad tomatoes for lunch and dreamed of Libera's sweet, juicy, voluptuous ones, picked straight off the vine. But at least we had a slice of pecorino brought back from Pienza, our suitcase redolent with its earthy scent mingling with the lavender that awaits its sachets.

I look at the rock again and then out to the sparkling waters of the Hudson. The day has turned blue. A blue September day. I think of all those who died 10 years ago and wonder how many of them thought "this is it," as they left us.