The days leading up to and following September 11 continue to be difficult. Ten years have passed and I am not completely sure that horrible feeling will ever go away. Every year I watch the memorial commemoration on television to hear the bell toll for each plane hitting the buildings, each tower falling, and to listen to the names of the lost. It's sad and it's meant to be sad. I hope the day never becomes a national holiday because people will make it a celebration, a BBQ, a vacation day, or eventually move it to make a three day weekend. No thank you.
So I've put off posting here because I wanted to avoid it, but obviously I can't.
Having the day to myself, I decided it was a beach day. I planned to paint, but I forgot to bring clean water. No problem, I took photos and sketched out my idea. I'll paint it later, maybe.
When I was ready to leave two army helicopters flew very low over the beach. One was a regular helicopter, the other was a troop transport. I was too surprised to get the camera out for a close up, and man, was it close. They hugged the shore as they flew over. By the time they were far away I jumped for the camera. What was that all about?
I drove out of the parking lot and onto the exit when I noticed a long line of American flags lining a path through the dunes. In the distance on the beach were steel replicas of the twin towers. Then I remembered there was a memorial commemoration at Pt. Lookout on September 11. Some families and first responders came here rather than go to Ground Zero. It was beautiful and sad.