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Severe clear.
Sep. 10th, 2011 01:27 pmThe sky was gorgeous last night- a palette of blue, white, yellow and pink. Today, 73F and only the puffiest of clouds.
I hope it rains tomorrow.
Anything to wash away the memory of how absolutely clear, and dry, and perfect the blue of that sky was before.
Several contemporary articles referred to the sky condition as being what pilots call "severe clear"- as a synonym for "unlimited visibility."
Little did we know how limited our vision was.
I will have trouble writing about this tomorrow. Obviously, I'm having trouble now. I wasn't There, I lost no one within even six Kevin Bacon degrees, and I cannot begin to presume empathy with anyone who was, or did.
But it is still painful. I worry about those who will find unfortunate triggers in images, and sound bites, and other visceral recollections of What, and When, and Where, and How. I have yet to watch any video of it, or hear any sound of it, and do not know if I will be able to.
Not surprisingly, ten years later, we're still incredibly conflicted about Why. Probably we always will be.
If plans hold, I will be in a sanctuary tomorrow- the one which sanctified our wedding, Emily's christening, and, sometime in the waning moments of that tragic week, some spontaneous form of remembrance for what, then, had just happened. I have other reasons for being there tomorrow, but it will be a good place to remember a bad time.
I hope it rains tomorrow.
Anything to wash away the memory of how absolutely clear, and dry, and perfect the blue of that sky was before.
Several contemporary articles referred to the sky condition as being what pilots call "severe clear"- as a synonym for "unlimited visibility."
Little did we know how limited our vision was.
I will have trouble writing about this tomorrow. Obviously, I'm having trouble now. I wasn't There, I lost no one within even six Kevin Bacon degrees, and I cannot begin to presume empathy with anyone who was, or did.
But it is still painful. I worry about those who will find unfortunate triggers in images, and sound bites, and other visceral recollections of What, and When, and Where, and How. I have yet to watch any video of it, or hear any sound of it, and do not know if I will be able to.
Not surprisingly, ten years later, we're still incredibly conflicted about Why. Probably we always will be.
If plans hold, I will be in a sanctuary tomorrow- the one which sanctified our wedding, Emily's christening, and, sometime in the waning moments of that tragic week, some spontaneous form of remembrance for what, then, had just happened. I have other reasons for being there tomorrow, but it will be a good place to remember a bad time.