Springtime on Liberty Island.

For the first time in 14 years, I set foot on Liberty Island. Initially, I am not too excited. I'm not too wild about going alone to a place I've already been before. And also, needless to say, the view has changed.

I am welcome by budding trees and overcast skies on my return to Liberty Island.

I walk to the booth and take my audio tour guide. I enter "200" for English and press play. The narrator tells me to walk towards the flagpole, to observe Lady Liberty, with her face pointed out towards the Atlantic, towards Europe. She is walking away from her pedestal. She will walk off the island, into New York Harbor, and across the sea to liberate the Europeans from their kings, queens and emperors.

I am impressed with the history of the Statue of Liberty, but a larger part of me pushes me towards the dock facing Manhattan. I think back to where I was and who I was on the December 9, 2000.

My mother's family is from New York City, and although I had been to New York many times, visiting for entertainment purposes was a rare treat. My dad, and Kyle, my friend from school high school, have one day to explore New York City. We have one semester remaining in high school before we go to college.

Kyle takes the photo. He has a good eye for visuals, the lighting, and the composition. My dad I face the camera, towards the Statue of Liberty. The Twin Towers stand in the background. The photo comes out great, but we won't see it for about another week.

In the photo, I am ecstatic, giddy as a little boy even though, for one of the first times recorded on camera, I am actually taller than my father. I am also surprised to find out that I am pointing towards Jersey City instead of the Twin Towers. Oops. There are no second takes with our single  roll of film. No instant gratification.

I think about how careless I was with that photo. I did make a digital copy, but the hard drive crashed long ago. My parents may have the original in a scrapbook somewhere.

Looking back towards Manhattan, and for me, back towards my past.

I look towards the promenade and I see other people taking pictures of themselves at the exact same spot where my father and I were standing 14 years ago. I think of that day. How an instant two buildings built to last centuries were lost to history in a horror akin to Hiroshima.

The narrator from the tour is still talking. She tells me that the statue is hollow, a major engineering feat for its time. She tells me to look at the base, and the base atop the base. I look with my right eye, but I turn back and look to my left towards lower Manhattan. My left eye begins to water. I try to hold back, but I am powerless. I give in, and with my hand wipe away a single tear.

I compose myself. I continue to walk around Liberty Island on this overcast spring day. A mild breeze is blowing. People are brimming with excitement as they take pictures of themselves on this day, the first time they have ever set foot on Liberty Island. They are ecstatic to see the great statue in person. I see them and smile.

I have come full circle. I hand over my audio tour guide to the booth attendant and board the ferry to Ellis Island. It's getting late when we get there, and I have only half an hour before the last ferry to Manhattan leaves. I tour the great hall, get something for my wife and the gift shop, and take some time to stroll the grounds. From the north side of Ellis Island, I see a single tree. A young tree. A tree that wasn't there 14 years ago. I see the rebirth and take a photo, mindful that I will be more careful this time . . .

Springtime for Ellis Island, looking north towards Manhattan, and forward to the future.