The bike at the world trade center
This is me filling up my paper box with cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery in New York City. The shot was taken November 2001. I’m all smiles here. Magnolia Bakery can make you feel like your 4 years old with an all access pass to the cookie jar. This was a welcome break from the emotion of the day. First thing in the morning, after the night I arrived in NYC to stay with my friend Patty, we rode the subway down to the site of the twin towers. As soon as we emerged from underground things were different. The people were quiet and the air was thick. There were pictures posted to walls all over the place. Happy photos just like this one of me. Each had the person’s name, some last seen info and a contact number. There were whole walls of them. We kept walking til we turned a corner and came within full view. A light drizzle of dust filled the air making it a little harder to breathe. I pulled my tshirt up over my mouth like a mask. The smell was smokey. We leaned against the temporary chain link fence that separated us from crews of workers still digging and clearing. I looked into the huge pile of rubble to see that what I had witnessed on television really happened. My friend and I didn’t even talk to eachother. Just watched and cried. There was a bike that had most likely been parked on the sidewalk and chained to a pole the morning before the buildings fell. Black with dust, nobody was in a hurry to have it removed. It’s been 11 years and I still think about that bike. I’ve been back twice since, the bike’s not there anymore and neither is the thick air. I wonder who it was that finally cut through the chain. The one that decided the owner of that bike wasn’t ever going to climb on and ride it home for dinner like we’d all hoped. Who was that brave soul that realized it was time for all of us to move on but to never really forget.