There is a framed print in my living room on the east wall. It is a black and white photograph of the World Trade Center shot from what appears to be Jersey City. There is a sort of optical illusion to it, as it looks like the towers are at the end of a long pier jutting out from the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. The pier and the river are prominent in the foreground.

I treasure this print, as I bought it on September 11, 2001, on my way home from that staggering day in Manhattan. As I look at it now, it makes me more introspective than sad. My how things have changed on every conceivable level since the day those towers fell. It has affected us personally, locally, nationally, internationally.

I think this all comes to mind so strongly now because in the last week I have written a piece honoring a former professor that put me in a place of reflection, plus there was a very compelling story about 9/11 conspiracy theories in New York magazine. It’s all been swirling around in my head. Destruction. Rebirth. Disaster. Epiphany. Profound sadness. Profound joy. Pessimism. Optimism.

Questions. Not enough answers.