Exactly 10 years ago, ground zero was a smoking, fire-spitting tomb, a ghastly pile of rubble and human remains. On Monday it was a place of serenity — an expanse of trees and water in the middle of a bustling city — as the 9/11 memorial opened to the public.
As they walked through a grove of oaks and traced their fingers over the names of the nearly 3,000 dead, visitors were deeply moved by the monument, whose centerpiece is two sunken pools ringed by bronze plaques.
“When we walked in, those images were popping in my head from 10 years ago,” said Laura Pajar of Las Vegas. “But when I saw the memorial, all of that went away. This is so peaceful, and you kind of forget about what happened, and you look toward the future.”
About 7,000 people registered online for free tickets to visit on opening day, and 400,000 are signed up for the coming months, according to the nonprofit organization that oversees the memorial.
Many visitors made pencil-and-paper rubbings of the names to take back home. Others sat on benches or clustered for photos. Some people cried; others embraced. Some left flowers or stuffed messages into the letters.
“There were no words,” Eileen Cristina of Lititz, Pa., said as she wiped away tears. “The enormity of the loss, the enormity of human kindness, the enormity of the suffering.”
The site was opened Sunday — the 10th anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks — to the 9/11 families. Monday marked the first day since the tragedy that ground zero was opened to the public.
Security was airport-tight, with visitors forced to empty their pockets, go through a metal detector and send their bags through an X-ray machine.
The memorial takes visitors on a kind of journey. First they walk through a promenade of more than 200 white oak trees. Then, like hikers coming upon a canyon, they arrive at two 30-foot-deep pits on the exact spots where the World Trade Center’s twin towers stood. Water cascades into the two voids, evoking the dust cloud that accompanied the towers’ fall.
The falling water creates a constant whooshing, muffling the noise of the city and nearby construction.
“It’s like an entrance to eternity,” said Wojtek Ballzun, a rail worker from Warsaw, Poland.