The World Trade Center, the double hub of my life wheel. It was the first place I went when I ran away to the City in 1977. Wearing Earth shoes and carrying an instamatic camera, I took the elevators to the observation deck, and took a photo survey of my new home, including the building two blocks away where I would soon be living and nursing my two little boys.
My babies learned to walk in the plaza, played in the fountain. The endless construction and deconstruction inside them fed my children for years, as my husband the carpenter built office after office for the junk bond fueled Reaganomicans.
In dreams, I'd imagine the Towers as a great gleaming double hanging garden, the glass blown out, the people gone, and plants, vines, flowers, birds, animals of all kinds creating a new micro-ecology every ten floors or so. I figured if we moved out, it would take nature about 10 years to walk off with the Twin Towers.
That's not how the WTC story ends, we know. I offer prayers to the four directions and the heart -- for those who died that day, for all our memories, for those who continually suffer the war, for those who can't make a decision, and for the rest of us who stand and pray sing dance cry for a vision.