Sunday, September 11, 2011


Ten years ago today, I was sitting in my cubical on Peachtree Street. I remember scoffing on my way into work that the "top national news story" on the radio was an unconfirmed report that Michael Jordan returning to the NBA. I clearly recall thinking, "Does this really qualify as news? There isn't some *actual* news you could be reporting?" To this day, those thoughts still haunt me.

I learned about the first plane on an electronic bulletin board, a community I am still a part of today. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A friend of mine from work was actually in New York, staying at the Marriott that was part of the WTC complex. I frantically called the office where she was supposed to be, and they did eventually find her. She had decided, for reasons she can't explain, to skip breakfast and head into the office early, and it may well have saved her life. I was so grateful she had survived this "accident." Then came the second plane. Then the Pentagon, which required more phone calls, this time to DH's family members to find out if his uncle was okay. He works at the Pentagon, but he was out of town on business that day.

They sent us home from work sometime after the collapse of the first tower, not knowing if other cities and other high rises were at risk. I learned about Pennsylvania and the collapse of the second tower on my drive home. I was completely numb, until my husband walked through the door a few minutes later. Then the tears came. I just sat on my sofa and cried. And prayed. For the huge loss of life. For the loss of the New York skyline as the world knew it, and as I remember it even now. But I also prayed for the people who hated this country enough to do something so horrible. No amount of asking "why" would yielded a satisfactory answer, then or now.

I remember the silence of the skies, with no planes in the air for days. And I remember the chill that ran down my spine when I heard the first post-attack plane flying overhead. Would this one make a safe landing at its intended destination? I had never wondered that before, but I still do sometimes, even now.

Today, ten years have passed, and I will be avoiding all anniversary coverage as much as possible. It just hurts too much. Instead, I will spend the day playing with my son, who has never known a world where the towers stood.

I will never forget, and I will continue to cry. And pray.

Currently feeling: sad

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