It happens every year around this time. I emerge from the subway, leave a play, or walk out into my backyard, and there it is again: Two piercing blue lights racing razor-straight into the dark skies. It’s jarring, in a somber and soft kind of way, I can feel it in my whole body.
A few years ago, something new happened when I saw that ghostly tribute to the Twin Towers. My son asked, “Dad, what’s that?”