Whenever
9/11 rolls around it always seems trivial to talk about anything other than
What Happened.
(If
you are easily stressed or shocked you’ll probably want to stop reading and
move on right now.)
So
often, when I see pictures relating to What Happened I think about the people
at the windows…and their two choices.
We
all have choices to make in life; jobs, companions, habits, diets,
attitudes…all kinds of choices that define the type of life we have.
We
rarely have a choice that determines the type of death we’ll experience.
The
choice we rarely have to make was this: Until about an hour ago you were in
your office or your cubicle. You were annoyed that your stapler was out of
staples. You had to choose whether you’d have more sugar with your coffee
(because you know it’s not really good for you) or whether or not to say
something about that dope in the next office who sounds like he’s yelling into
his phone.
But,
not now.
Now
your office is an inferno. The fire is like something alive—which it is—and it
is a monster consuming everything it touches. Your desk is in flames. You can
see it across the hall and you can see those cute little pictures of your kids,
the ones you made a few weeks ago at the Outer Banks, those shots are already
cracked and burned. And that award you won last spring at the annual banquet,
the brass is reflecting the orange/red flames leaping in front of it.
You
can feel the heat of the fire. And it’s rapidly getting hotter…and you know the
monster is coming for you….and you know the choice is coming.
So
you put your foot on the window sill. You’re sixty floors up and the windows
are made so that they don’t open like they might if you were a few floors up in
an older building. Someone threw a couch through the window and there’s broken
glass around the edge. There’s a bit of blood on one of the edges…you know how
it got there but you don’t want to think about it.
The
wind is howling by the window with a sound that reminds you of a dragon’s roar…another
monster…one inside and one outside. It’s as if stepping up and into the window
is like stepping into the mouth of the dragon.
You
look out the window and see a snapshot of some of The City. You see TV and
police helicopters circling. It seems that some of the cameras pointing out of
the sides of the TV choppers are pointed right at you. You wonder if those
happy children whose photos are already smoke and cinders will see you on the
news tonight.
And
you look back into the room and the fire is getting closer and the choice is
almost at hand.
The
monster inside or the monster outside.
That’s
really the choice, isn’t it?...to let the monster inside consume you or to step
into the dragon’s mouth.
And
then you realize there might be another choice…to see if you can fly.
Fire
or fly.
Looking
at it that way changes the choice, doesn’t it?
Time
is getting short.
You
knew someone else made the choice when you saw the bit of blood on the glass at
the edge of the window. Maybe they flew.
You
put your hands on the edge of the window and glass nicks the meaty part of your
hand.
You
step out onto the ledge.
The
blue sky seems so welcoming.