I wasn't going to write about it. I just wasn't.
I wrote about my humiliating experience and was not blogging again til Monday.
But I can't, not, write about it.
I feel more aware this year, of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks. I don't know why. I just do. Maybe it's the division I feel in our country that feels stronger to me lately. I don't know. But I remember how 9/11 brought us together as a country. How billboards went up everywhere that said God Bless America. And we were not ashamed of that. How people suddenly were friendlier for at least a little while and we could talk about God and His blessings with humility and renewed faith, without any anger or backlash from others.
So I just wanted to share where I was and what I was doing. Kind of like when Kennedy was shot. And I want to know, please, please, where you were and what you were doing when 9/11 happened.
We were living in Rhode Island. I was pregnant, newly pregnant and sick, with Charlie.
Maile and her two oldest, who were 2years and 3 months old were out visiting me.
I had taken Kate to her first day of pre-school when the calls started coming.
Miss Doris got a call from her sister. The towers had been hit.
I asked if there were people in the planes, yes, both towers or just one, at that point just one.
I wasn't from the east coast, so I had to be reminded of what the Trade Towers were. They weren't a fixture for me the way they were for so many living in the East.
On the way home tower two got hit. Maile was at my house and watched it happen live.
Jeff called home and she told him what was happening. He thought she was joking around with him and told his co-workers who were also just starting to hear from people.
Living on the east coast, it felt so surreal. Our friend across the street new someone who new someone that died that day. (Isn't that right Chris?)
We'd all made our trips to New York, become familiar with it as best as you can as a tourist. And watching the black and grey smoke billowing, just didn't seem real.
For hours we sat and watched t.v. Crying, sobbing, unable to stem the tide of emotions as we watched footage of people jumping from the buildings, preferring the fall to the heat and horror inside. Then hearing of the plane that went down in Pennsylvania, the Pentagon being hit. Wondering, wondering how many more attacks would occur before it was over.
Our landlord worked for one of the airlines. Everything was grounded. Nothing taking off. Fear, slamming into us like a wrecking ball.
I wanted Jeff to come home. I don't know why. Everyone at CVS was watching it at work. I'm not sure how anyone got anything accomplished that day.
We watched footage all the next day as well, until I finally couldn't stand it anymore. We had to get out and do something, think about something else for just a little while. The tragedy, the lives affected, was just so much to process.
At first the numbers of dead they were reporting were immense. I hate to admit it was with relief that I heard it was "only" 3000+ dead, not the thousands upon thousands originally feared.
My poor sister had to fly home a week after 9/11 with her two babies. I think she switched planes in Newark, where one that had hit the trade towers originated from. She had to fly across the country one week after our country changed. I'll let her tell about it in the comments section. But can you imagine?
I just wanted to write about it today. And I would love to know where you were when, as Alan Jackson puts it, the world stopped turning.