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21.2 °F
December 09, 2016
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Sandy’s Legacy

When I wake up early in the city now, my thoughts racing to keep up with my newly-active life, I look out the front windows on Franklin Street at the beautiful red brick buildings across the street and at the sliver of open sky facing south. The new World Trade Center rises like an elongated pyramid toward completion. Its reflective coating lets it appear to float in the day-lit sky. At night, it sparkles with light. (Perplexingly, it even sparkled when the rest of downtown was dark after Sandy.) I never thought I would miss its dreadful reminder of the day we saw it fall. But in these early mornings, I think I may.

The offer came before we could paint. Before we even cleaned out the pantry or polished the floors. It was easy to accept, coming as it did without much effort on our part. No hordes of open-house gawkers or haughty brokers condemning our humble home. Just a phone call and a few hours spent waiting in the corner diner, while the potential buyers inspected their future home. After accepting the offer, our family spent the week together in the dark, lighting candle stubs (they came in handy after all) and enjoying each other’s company in our family home. This week, a thought appeared during silence that we will be home wherever we are. Sandy, we will never forget you.