Blue sky, dark day

There was never a bluer sky than the one I saw on Sept. 11, 2001. As I stood on a Long Island train platform waiting to board the 7:08 a.m. to New York City, I soaked in the brilliant color and warm sun.

I was living with my parents at the time, working in Manhattan at Good Housekeeping magazine, my first job out of college. I commuted every morning with my fiancé, Andrew, who I later married before we moved to Vermont.

We arrived at Penn Station around 8 a.m. with 50,000 other commuters. No one acknowledged each other. Eyes focused straight ahead. We kept pace with the pack.

Backpacks and bubbles of hope

He woke in the middle of the night and said his tummy hurt. Later he thought better, the booms of thunder made him scared. He was shy at the bottom of the stairs, speaking in his softest voice and hugging his puffy green dinosaur.

I reminded him the first day of school was tomorrow and he should get some sleep. "The thunder scares me though." I picked him up and felt his little heart beating out of his Buzz Lightyear pajamas.