Been on the porch a lot. Finally figured out what feels so eerie.
No planes.
I moved to DC days after 9/11.
The gaping hole in the Pentagon still seemed to smolder. All the flags around the Washington Monument flew at half mast in the idyllic autumn sun. It was a ghost town /1
No planes.
I moved to DC days after 9/11.
The gaping hole in the Pentagon still seemed to smolder. All the flags around the Washington Monument flew at half mast in the idyllic autumn sun. It was a ghost town /1
National Airport was closed for 3 weeks, and it was so, so quiet on the Mall. You could hear the flags snap in the wind, the hardware clanging against the flagpoles.
When planes started taking off again over the city, it was jarring, raw. Every takeoff, drawing breath. /2
When planes started taking off again over the city, it was jarring, raw. Every takeoff, drawing breath. /2
Anyone who was here then knows the sound of where the planes are supposed to be — looks up when one is given permission to take off or land slightly into the no-fly zone over the city. Remembers. /3
Right now, again, there are almost no planes. I can’t remember hearing or seeing one in weeks.
And it’s that same weight of quiet — the emotion of solid silence after something terrible has happened, and you’re waiting, waiting, for whatever comes next. /4
And it’s that same weight of quiet — the emotion of solid silence after something terrible has happened, and you’re waiting, waiting, for whatever comes next. /4
