Since 1808 the area known as Long Bridge has connected the Virginia side of the Potomac to the D.C. side of the Potomac; historically, this area was part of the capital city but was ceded back to Virginia pre-Civil War. A quick Google will turn up facts such as the history of the foot bridge here where rates were different for foot-only, or person plus horse traffic, and sheep or pigs. Today, freight and commuter trains roll by while planes take off nearly every minute from National Airport (as a long-timer here I do not call this airport by its current name). This week on one of the first not excruciating days of September, the skies are blue and clear — no humidity haze hangs on our heads as we walk and watch the human and nature made transportation soar and roar past us.
This particular week of September always feels compressed: the weather is finally changing, the sky is clearing but there are memories and sadness that lead to the compressed feeling compared to the expansiveness that next week will bring with the seasonal changes. Twenty-two years ago, September mornings started much the same as this one – clear blue skies, beautiful temperatures to meet the sunrise – a fall day full of hope. And smoke. And jet fuel. And destruction. And words that still do not full express the trauma of living near, and with terror. Here on this path, in the shadow of the Pentagon and its breach, I always feel that we live in one of the safest places in the world — we know the sounds of various types of helicopters, to look for the signs — a silent sky is not a friendly sky. It’s hard to think of the losses that are ever-present in hearts and minds. On this day, there is peace on these banks. The seabirds fly, the squirrels frantically dart and the day goes on as any other early fall day might, except for the memories.
3 Coffees A Day 