Twelve years later I’m still uneasy traveling to work in Manhattan on September 11. It was especially strange to come up from the underground subway this morning and see the Freedom Tower shiny and looming over the narrow downtown streets. I’d just learned it was renamed One World Trade Center. There was too much to get used to in our new neighborhood. Maybe I’d skip lunch and spend the day at my desk.
At 110 William Street, I dug my card key out of my purse so I could get past the security turnstile and head up to the Guideposts offices on the ninth floor. No more sashaying by with a friendly “Good morning, Florence!” at the entrance to our old place in Midtown. I already missed her asking about my girls, or what kind of angel the next cover of the magazine would feature. Nope, our downtown building was impersonal, its front desk a flurry of security guards dressed for business instead of small talk.
Upstairs I swiped my card key again to get into the office. The big gray file cabinet that usually greeted me seemed to have morphed overnight into a museum-quality pedestal that held a vase of happy sunflowers, peach Gerbera daisies and apricot-colored roses. It was a stunning display. I opened the card lying next to it. “We hope you all enjoy your new offices and we offer our sincerest welcome to the whole staff. From your neighbors on the 9th floor.”
So there were angels here too. Showing themselves on a day I really needed them. On my way out at lunchtime, I’ll be sure to introduce myself to the front desk security guards. I have a feeling I’ll be pleasantly surprised.
