Red Dress City

Though I live on its outskirts, it is my city. I am in the wintergreen Subaru when I hear the news. My children are laughing in the back seat and I shush them.

It is my city that is burning, ashes falling like snow. It is my husband who is slated to be at One World Trade Center, but decides to stay home. It is my husband who loses colleagues on that day, just like so many others... everybody is touched by this. And it is my husband who tells me in the weeks to come... how acrid is the lingering air.

I do not go. I cannot go. I cannot look. Months later, when the debris is cleared, I walk that street, look into that gaping space, remember those Windows on the World.

But I've never been able to fully process these things. Who can process tragedy, really? Here are my small tributes...

Eyewitness News, photo essay at IAM's Curator.

Tragedy in the Balance, at HighCallingBlogs.

Qui Es in Caelis, at Love Notes to Yahweh



'Sara Eternal' and 'Titanic' photos by L.L. Barkat