Ten years ago, I had been living in Los Angeles for just two years.
I wrote the following a few days after September 11, 2001.
Dear Grandma New York,
I wish I was with you now. I wish I could sit with you and hold your hand as you slowly recuperate. I’m jealous of the rest of the family who was – thankfully – there after it happened. And I am glad that they are there to comfort you as the doctors diligently repair your wounds. But I am so far away, Grandma. I can’t hug you and hold hands with all the people who line your bedside. Instead, I have to send my heart from here.