Shaken

Yesterday's collapse of the I-35 Bridge in Minneapolis brought feelings of shock and grief. I was having dinner out with friends, a belated birthday celebration for me, and as soon as we learned of the tragedy I felt an urge to get home, so I could follow the news. I found myself calling dear ones in the city to check on their wellbeing. According to news reports, many others were also doing this; cell phone connections were spotty. From 45 miles away, I felt personally shaken by the news.
I thought about how I was experiencing a small taste of the horror those in and around NYC felt on September 11. Of course we all felt it that day, but proximity definitely heightens the senses.
I thought about how seeing the ugly aftermath, and then the empty span of space for the next several years will keep these feelings closer to consciousness long after they will have passed for those who don't live around here.
I had a young friend who was so excited to have been accepted at NYU and had moved to New York for graduate school just before the 9/11 tragedy. She was a smart, capable young woman with serious ambition and an adventurous spirit. I later heard she had "come home" to Iowa within the semester. My heart went out to her as I imagined her trying to negotiate the landscape of that experience. I remember wondering whether to contact her, if perhaps she was weary of having to "explain."
The oppresive heat and humidity has lifted here today. The sun is shining and the air is Minnesota fresh. Television coverage from the wreckage has me thinking of the number of wounded and broken hearts that hover over the bright skies of the scene.