Fifteen years….


Tragic events which leave deep emotional scars on those left behind tend to soften as time passes.  But not always.  Not even after fifteen years when, on that beautiful September morning, each of our lives was severely impacted by the willful, destructive ideology of radical extremists.


As I sat and watched the yearly 9/11/01 ceremony in New York City, it seemed to hit harder than in previous years.  It was almost as if it had just taken place for the first time.  The incredible pain of watching innocent lives disappearing as two majestic icons collapsed into clouds of smoke and twisted metal was…overwhelming. 


My personal reaction might have been due to recently spending time at both the Freedom Tower and 9/11 Museum with my family.  The footprint of the North Tower had us walking on what I deemed sacred ground; there was a sense that many who had perished were watching over each visitor, perhaps looking for a familiar loved one, waiting to send some spiritual comfort to those left behind.


Today, I again watched, and listened, as names were read by family members.  Their tears gently fell as they spoke about the losses they suffered, each vowing to never forget.  Brave families, with such unimaginable voids in their lives, who took time to share sweet stories and express their love as they looked to the heavens.


Fifteen years have passed; many more will follow.  Ceremonies and observances will continue.   One day, the 9/11/01 tragedy will become a chapter in history for generations that follow.  That is, until those generations walk on hallowed ground and learn…to never forget.



Fond memories of what once was are often much better than what actually took place.  So are dreams.


Time does that.  It tends to erase so much.  Like, romanticizing things.   Almost in an attempt to blanket all that might have been painful so long ago.  And, those situations we wish could have had happier endings.  Dreams are much like old photo albums.  With each turn of the page, a moment jumps out at us.  It lingers for a while, softening into a cloud of wishful thinking.


And memories.  Like raking leaves every Autumn, when we reach into a pile and pick out the prettiest ones, stopping to admire their vibrant colors before gently sweeping them into a mound.  Then, we watch the wind carry them away. 



Fond memories of what once was are often much better than what actually took place.  So are dreams.






My choice from Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…..Write a post that begins and ends with the same sentence.



A sacred passage…

Familiar warmth is slowly disappearing.   The palette of bright colors on beaches has faded, packed away until another time.  The sounds of laughter and fun no longer compete with the roar of the ocean.

Lazy days now give way to busy schedules. Gone are the warm nights with gentle breezes that peek into windows while fireflies dance outside in the darkness.

Time keeps passing, much too quickly. All that had just begun ends with a turn of a calendar’s page.  Local shops signal endings while beckoning new beginnings. 

Days grow painfully shorter.  Flowers, once bright and fragrant, struggle to keep their blooms.  Too soon, all will to be turned into garden statues by an early frost.   Slowly, the curtain closes on one more summer. 

The changing of seasons is always a sacred passage.






More inspiration from Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop and very fitting as we welcome September!  Write a blog post in exactly 13 lines. 


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