Opinion A Yellow Rose

New York City: a sprawling concrete jungle that stretches farther than the eye can see, miles in every direction, with only water cutting off the vast confines of Manhattan from the other four boroughs of lesser prominence. 

What a sight to behold through the virgin lenses of a born and raised country boy.

Few places in the United States, let alone the world, can escort you from the beauty of Battery Park overlooking the Statue of Liberty to the controlled chaos of Times Square, often called the center of the universe (although it doesn't impress the author that much), and finally to a reserve of nature at Central Park; all within a subway wide of each other.

However, beyond the must-see tourist attractions that everyone has booked on their once in a lifetime visit to Manhattan, nothing spells out the amazing character and personality of New Yorkers more than the 9/11 Memorial. 

Situated in the shadow of the One World Trade Center (Freedom Tower), the grounds are somber as thousands pay their respects to the fallen of September 11th, 2001. The noise of the world's grandest city melt away before your eyes, as the compassion of humanity overwhelms your senses. 

The massive size of the Twin Towers become apparent as you observe the solemn waterfalls cascading hundreds of feet below, where the symbols of American prosperity once stood. Surrounding them, are the names of victims who perished during the terrorist attacks etched in bronze plates attached to parapet walls. 

In the midst of this scene, while offering a silent prayer, I noticed the most beautiful and memorable part of my adventure to New York City: a simple yellow rose placed in the name of William Michael Weems, a rose I later discovered was placed to commemorate what would have been his birthday Saturday.

Soon after my girlfriend's sister informed me of this pretty little flower's purpose, I noticed a handful of other carefully placed yellow roses memorializing the birthdays of other victims. To say my heart fell would be an understatement, but to know that almost thirteen years after Mr. Weems' celebrated his last birthday that we still remember it, is a testament to the good in all of us.

So in a weekend full of memories and personal heartache, I walk away with those roses still fresh in my eyes, reminding me of the good that remains in this world and our nation's vow to remember those fell on that fateful day...