Sunset
On Sunday, August 13, 2000, I happened to be witness to one of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen. I was up in the northern most section of Wisconsin doing something that I have enjoyed doing as
many of my relatives have also enjoyed doing. I was fishing from a canoe. What made this experience so special to me is that I later found out why this sunset was so beautiful. This sunset to me represented the fading away of a beautiful person in my grandmother Stopoulos. She passed away that same
night, just as the setting sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The sun is the center of the universe as my Yiayia is the center of a family filled with memories of her love.
Later that evening, I decided to sleep in my tent right on the shores of Lake Superior. The moon was bright, and I lay awake listening to the waves gently
crash into sand shore. It was a very peaceful time, as each wave represented the calm loving touch and wisdom that she gives to us all. You see, these waves will never stop reaching the shore, as her love will always be around us all.
As I awoke the following morning the sun was rising. It was also a beautiful sunrise, which warmed the earth with each ray of light. When I think about
her, my heart is warmed with memories that will ever go away. They say that the sunset and sunrise is Greece are some of the most beautiful in the world,
and I now know why. From now on whenever I look into the sun I will remember her, and know that she is still looking after our family as she always has and always will.
Marc
This next entry is by a girl who wrote in response to the tragic happenings at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on Tuesday September 11, 2001. A day that will remain in the minds of many for years and years to come.
I Don't Understand
As we sit in English Lit, the prof drones on about Edgar Lee Masters and his
book. It's a book of poetry, a book of epitaphs. We talk about the dark
traits of the world: greed, jealousy, and anger. Half past eight, we decide
that some acts people do can't be explained, they are simply evil. The prof
goes to the office, she wants a fresh cup of coffee. We are left to discuss
how somebody could be simply evil.
She comes back in, her face more ashen than I've ever seen. In a slow and
careful voice, we hear the words, "There has been an attack. The World Trade
Centre is on fire, the Pentagon has been hit." I stare at the clock, unable
to look her in the face, it's too much to bear. The clock ticks, 8.31 and
fifteen, 8.31 and sixteen. She takes another breath, "This is probably the
worst act of terrorism you will ever experience in your life. We're going
across the hall to watch it on CNN, I think it's important for you."
I walk into the room, and my nerves turn to ice. It's much worse than my
wildest imagination could fathom. There's the towers, in fire. Gone. In a
haze, I walk over to a free chair, but I'm shaking. I can't keep my hands
still. It dawn upon me, I say it outloud, "Jean's in there." The entire room
stares at me, a sudden pure shock hangs heavy in the room. The prof takes a
breath and asks the unbearable question, "You know somebody there? Where?"
Jean... floor number 92.
Somehow, I get out of that room. Everything is in slow motion. Somehow, Edgar
Lee Masters doesn't seem worth reading anymore. Though the thought of what we
were reading runs through my blood like hot iron. I made it through there,
fuzzily walked over to the planetarium. My mind turns to my blood sugar, it
went through the roof. In a deep haze, I try and ring my mother. "Beep, beep,
beeeeeeeep. We're sorry, all circuts are busy." Try number six, I get through.
At home, I watch the news. It's too much to bear, I can't understand. My mind
goes into writer-mode. Questions run through my brain faster than I can hear
them. I simply can not understand. I am wracked with pure horror and the
underlying question: Is Jean okay? Was she in the building?
Then I stop asking questions, it hurts too much. In a haze I wander over to
my jigsaw puzzle of Bergen, Norway, working on it in pure fog. I end up
working on it for hours on end, something to focus on. I try and focus on
something less stimulating, but every channel is on the news, or blank.
Finally, I put in a video. The sweet rhythm from "That Thing You Do" rings in
my bedroom, greating a false sense of security. At that moment, I needed any
feeling of security I could get.
Eventually, I fall alseep. My dreams aren't nightmares, I don't dream of
anything. Simply six hours of pure blackness to comfort my nerves. It feels
like a warm blanket, wrapping around me and saying that everything will
eventually be okay, that time will help heal.
A new day is here, I still don't understand. The destruction is too much for
my soul, the horror and pain of not knowing about Jean hangs over my head.
Everything seems to have stopped. I want to help so badly, but there's
nothing I can do. I cry my tears and help give as much comfort as I can, even
though I need all that I can get.
Anger hasn't set it, it's still survivor-mode, one might say. My mind keeps
going back to the clock, the ugly, beaten-up clock hanging up in the English
Lit room. The picture of 8.31 and fifteen has been burned into my mind,
hanging over everything as if no time has passed.
Eleyna.
