A beautiful night.

We never mentioned what day it was, or what we were doing five years ago. We’re good friends, old friends, and we’ve talked about it all before, and increasingly again these past few weeks as the anniversary loomed and the news coverage increased. We dined on all the sushi we could eat, drank a little saki and berry wine, and talked mostly about old times. And then, stuffed to the gills with sushi, we walked around the city.

People traveled in groups of twos and threes, some of them wanderers like us, others walking with purpose. As we neared Times Square, the crowd thickened, as is usual. A screen curled the words “We will never forget” around a bank. Across the street, a line of fans curled around the block, preparing to wait out all night for a Justin Timberlake CD signing. A man tried his best to play “America the Beautiful” on a steel drum, but it was obvious that it wasn’t in his normal repertoire. And looking south, two high-intensity spotlights shone up into the night.

We knew what night it was. No one needed flags, banners or a presidential visit to remind them. But it wasn’t a vigil; it wasn’t solemn. It was just people doing what they do, an unconscious testament to resilience.

Rob