Important enough, I think, to post twice.
In March, Culture Husband and I celebrated our anniversary with a night in a posh hotel near Battery Park City. We ended our trip with a visit to the 9/11 Memorial. Somehow it seemed appropriate, even necessary, to visit the memorial and remember even as we celebrated.
The atmosphere was eerily like the memorials on the beaches of Normandy–all obvious signs of the destruction, horror, and blood are gone. But there is something in the air and light, in the way other visitors walk slowly and whisper, in the quiet, respectful aura of this place despite the hustle and noise of the surrounding city that took our breath away.
We thought we knew what to expect, at least in terms of what the memorials would look like. We’d read about the waterfalls flowing into holes placed where the foundations of the towers were. But nothing can truly prepare you for…
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