truthfully

i never liked them. i thought they were gaudy; the bob ross-ification of the new york city skyline.
"and let's just paint a happy little tree over here."
tall, ugly, monstrous boxes.

it's not like i avoided them. i visited frequently, mostly with my grandma gladys who grew up in new york city and tried desperately to get me to like the same things that she did: chopped liver, sour cream with blueberries, the M9 bus. the first time i remember going was when i was about 10. we were coming down the elevator and when the doors opened, a little girl was standing there with her parents. she was my twin. i know people always say that, but she truly was. we looked exactly the same, right down to our side ponytails (it was 1988). we both stared at each other. my mother made a comment. we got out. she got on. we moved on.

i also remember visiting in the summer of 2000. i woke up one morning with a random urge. i hadn't thought about them in years, but i found myself walking south on broadway, and before long, i was taking the elevator to the top, and pressing my head against the glass. "just like ants," i heard someone say. it made me nostalgic. my grandma had once pointed out the same thing about the people below. i walked around the tower several times and went into that little room where you could take an aerial tour. the room darkened. your seat moved. it was fun. i kept the ticket stub. but mostly, i just remember that i felt safe. so safe. and i know this, because the thought never crossed my mind that i wasn't.

i miss them.