About once a day, we lean over to tie our shoes.
Imagine bending over, blood pounding your face, and when you take a deep breath to inhale - you can't get up. Your strength is lost. And you're stuck down there.
At the end of the day, this happens to me sometimes. After I've spent my energy like currency and splurged one last time to discover I am broke. This is when I admit to being scared. This is when I find ways not to weep.
I'm not scared for me. I'm scared for you. For the people I love. For knowing that if they fell, I would not have the strength to lift them up. I wouldn't have the strength to hold on if our fingers were locked.
Every day of their lives, the families and friends of loved ones fallen on September 11th, 2001, carry a burden that splinters joints and uproots hearts. They don't have designated days for grieving. They don't feel that loss once a year.
So for one day, one day of respite, I will carry that burden for them. I will use the strength I have in me. Today, WE can shoulder that excruciating weight. Damn, it hurts. God, it is heavy. But I will hold it.
In the rapid blur of colors and bodies that makes our world, the greatest accomplishment is freeze-framing one, five, as many as you can to see who is inside them. Yesterday, someone asked me, "Did you know anyone who died that day?"
I answered; "I knew 3,000."
So help me. Help me carry 3,000. Help me hold the only weight I know I can lift.