On 66 street and Columbus Ave, Jolene and I passed by a branch of the American Folk Museum. When we walked in the first thing we saw was a massive quilt. Instead of reading the explanation of the piece, my eyes aimed straight for the details of the quilt. I saw patches with names on them. Some were decorated with flowers or curvy lines. Others were more simple: a name against a colored background.

I was very confused about this work of art and did not understand what the names meant. Jolene pointed out that it was a memorial for those that died in September 11. I read the explanation and understood, but was still confused. Some of it made sense the groups of blue patches (for the police officers) and other representations throughout. Standing back I realized the patches formed a depiction of the twin towers and the surrounding buildings. Nonetheless it still confused me.

When I think of September 11, I recall a horrifying day. I recall coming home wondering if my father would ever return. I hear the voicemail he left, barely understandable, but his voice nonetheless, which meant yes so far he was alive. I remember crying until late at night when my father finally walked in the door covered head to toe with a thick layer of dust. The following days after were full of tears for those who weren't so lucky as we were and paranoia of what was to come.

As I looked at the patch work, I didn't see any of that sadness. I saw cute patches that formed a larger picture. It looked more like something I wanted to drape on my bed and cuddle in, not the memory of an event that haunted me for years. I almost felt betrayed by the quilt.

Then I thought about it from another perspective and this quilt for me represents a peace of mind. No one will ever forget September 11, 2001. However, maybe it is time we remember with out anger, fear, and despair. Instead it's time we remember and acknowledge the event, feel the pull of our lost ones, but accept it as the past.