I don’t need bumper stickers or constant replays on television to remind me of the horrors of 9/11.   The evil, fear and panic of that day will stay with me forever.   Instead of sharing where I was when I heard of the terrors, I try to keep in my mind the joy of coming home.    I worked in New York City on that awful day, and wondered how I would get home, as the trains and buses  were not running and all the tunnels were closed.    I waited with what seemed like thousands of others for a ferry, feeling like a refugee headed for a safer land, New Jersey.    After an hour we boarded a ferry across the Hudson River to Weehkawken, where rows of ambulances and fire trucks were waiting to board the ferry in on the return trip.  After a bus to Hoboken, a train to Newark and then a train to Montclair, the first sight on the platform when I stepped off the train was my husband, waiting for me.   As I sobbed into his embrace, I knew that the power of love was greater than any of the evil I had seen that day.   I was home.

In the days that followed, the world gradually started turning again.   I returned to work on Thursday, where we still managed to get out all of the tax returns due September 15, in spite of the fact that we could have taken an extension until December due to the terrorist attacks. On Sunday night, the non-stop television news coverage began to cease, channel by channel.   On ABC, they made the transition by running a special on the life and accomplishments of Walt Disney, a man who brought so much joy and magic and wonder into the world and into our lives as regular visitors of Disneyland and Walt Disney World.   Walt believed in a “bright big beautiful tomorrow” and I began to have hope that his legacy would inspire hope in overcoming the evil of the world.   He also loved and believed in America, had been a veteran, and believed in the best of this country and the world.

Later that week, Disney Vacation Club sent us two pins, American Flags in the shape of the traditional Mickey Ears with a note of sympathy for all those who were lost that day and a simple message: “Please come home.”

The homecomings in those weeks are what I keep in my heart, the power of love over evil, the message of hope, and belief in a better future.

There is still snow on the ground from the “Blizzard of 2010” and another six to eight inches were added this week.  The snow in our yard is still beautiful, but the plowed snow piles along the streets and in the parking lots have become gray and depressing.   More snow is predicted for this week.  And it is not even midwinter; winter has not even been here a month.

The newness of the year is wearing off  and the resolutions are beginning to wane.   Spring seems so far away, and the activities that usually energize me, such as taking long walks, are not as energizing on icy sidewalks.

So it is time to plan some winter activities, instead of just counting the days until Spring (65).   It’s time to dust off the novel I wrote during National Novel Writing month in November and start revising it.  It’s time to tackle the backlog of scrapbooking projects and to finish the Lego Carousel that has taken over the kitchen counter.   It’s time to look forward to a new season of American Idol starting this week, the return of network TV after the “winter hiatus” and to snuggle up under a throw blanket with a cup of tea and a good book to read.

And to think about how much I will have accomplished when in 65 days I send out my First Day of Spring cards, greet the first crocuses, and welcome Wally, Clarence and Eddie as they emerge from hibernation, instead of just wishing that I could hibernate as well.