Every Stitch a Prayer

Camera bag slung over my shoulder, I weave between clusters of uniformed men and women; slide behind six rows of mostly-filled chairs; and find a vantage point along the northern wall. I am here to bear witness.

Today, the National 9/11 Flag makes its only stop in New Hampshire at Fire Station #2 in Portsmouth. The iconic flag that hung at Ground Zero, now the National 9/11 Flag, has been slowly making its way across the country being repaired. New Hampshire's patch was stitched together from remnants of three stripes. Each bit of red fabric was taken from a retired flag that once flew over a city fire station.

Ten minutes into the ceremony, I hear the sound of metal clanging on pipe. A code of sorts, decipherable by many, answered by half a dozen. Sirens blare as they race away, leaving behind a silence heavy with appropriateness and eloquence and a faint hint of fear.

Portsmouth Fire Chief Chris LeClaire waits a beat and moves on. Each honoree is briefly introduced then proceeds to make his or her stitch. At the conclusion, the chief announces that anyone in attendance is welcome to add a stitch.

As I wait in line, I snap photos of the damages and the patches. I run my hand along the edges, feeling the silken glory that once was. Remembering, always remembering, the images from that day and all the days that have followed. I haven't shed a tear over 9/11 or the aftermath. I'm a product of my upbringing. I'm slowly unlearning those lessons—ingrained early and reinforced for decades—that no longer serve me or those I love. The no-tears response is swift and harsh. Moving through this is taking patience, willingness, and courage. Some days, one or all are missing.

I reach the head of the line, my eyes are brimming with too-long unshed tears. I gaze into the eyes of the woman in charge of the needle. She hands it to me and asks if I need help. I shake my head, she rests her hand reassuringly on my back, and I push the needle through. As I turn to hand it back, she says, "Each stitch is a prayer. Do you need to make another stitch?" I nod, take the needle and a deep breath, remembering, and as the tears spill over, I make that second stitch.

I take the second stitch for every person who died on 9/11 or as a result of the wars that have followed. I take it for every person who has survived, however wounded. I take it for my cyber-friend J.D. and his family. I take it for his son, Lcpl. James F. Kimple, 1986 - 2008. I take it for all the soldiers serving at home and abroad. I take it for the children who never knew a pre-911 America.

My re-creation of the National 9/11 Flag.

For photos of the flag and today's story, visit this link.

This little boy is the child of a woman whose her first husband was killed on United Airlines Flight 175.
At 2 1/2, what he seems to know is he likes how this feels. I wish him a world of peace.