A Miraculous Space
I stood inside a Winter Garden just as it had been pre 9/11. The palm trees, the glass roof, the marble floor, the large
semicircular staircase, the side escalators…I thought I was dreaming. I walked up those stairs seeing the wall of glass
panes where once the North Bridge's revolving doors had been. Light was streaming in. I could see all the way down to the
Pit. I stood there. It was like being caught between two worlds. A world of a dream and the world of the here and now. I had
never thought I'd be able to walk in this space again. I cried with joy.
The restoration of the Winter Garden replicated the past. Except for the closed restaurant's tables and the slightly
different color of the marble flooring no one would ever be able to guess that it had been so badly ravaged. Oh, yes, that
observation wall is there, the one scar that will forever remain in some form to remind us of what really happened. But a
dream it's not. Ah, yes, defiance in a glorious form. You can almost hear the space whisper "Take that you lowly terrorist
scum. We will not only survive we will triumph!"
Epilogue
Last week I returned for a concert. As I sat there listing to the wonderful singing of the Eastern European women's group
Kitka, I couldn't help but be distracted. This time not by the beauty of this space but by what had transpired one morning
within it. Within these walls are the echoes of the hundreds of people who fled from the terror behind them. Running, running
to the safety of the river and the boats awaiting them. Fortunately no lives were lost. And so today, there are new voices
to overlay the pain of the past. The music and singing and joy from those experiencing it, will heal this space. I just pray
that those who were here on 9/11 return and partake in this magical gathering. More than a space needs to be healed.
c2002 Leona M Seufert
