I can still see the amber sunset and the Statue of Liberty through the newly-wedded paned-glass of Windows on the World that Sunday evening three weeks before the Towers fell. We left the wedding dozens of roses in hand the bride and groom needed not there was such a surfeit. That view I experienced is a sight that now exists for birds alone and, perchance, a lingering spirit or two; or, if the fates be cruel, a whispered echo of that golden-haired bartender's gorgeous smile.
Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory.