There are no airplanes in the sky today. I have never seen such a thing, ever. No roar of jet engines, no buzzing of small aircraft punctuate the air above me. Our sleep will not be disturbed by the flights leaving for Asia and India in the wee hours of the morning and making the turn out over the ocean early because the pilots want to snatch every spare moment they can in the face of the jetstream which slows their journey. The airports are closed, the planes grounded. The skies are empty.
I'm trying to make sense of what happened this morning. Thousands are dead, New York is shockingly changed, and though all my friends and clients are safe and accounted for I still tremble at the magnitude of the destruction, particularly the idea that it was carefully planned for years. The reality of so much hatred is hard to grasp. Despite news reporting and tv specials, despite the Oklahoma bombing and the violent history of the Middle East, terrorism simply seemed unreal to me...until today. My complacency is shattered. And I keep looking up at the blue, eerily quiet sky.
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