There’s not much to say that many, many others haven’t already in some means or another.
But I’m writing down my recollections today, if nothing else, for my kids, for whom September 11th is something that will be taught as American history.
On September 11, 2001, I awoke to my alarm around 8:45. Late, I know, for 24-year-old on a Tuesday morning, but I was unemployed as of the end of August and searching for a job. Matt had long since left for work, and I awoke to a bright, beautiful, sunny morning and, like most mornings, immediately turned the radio on. Before I could even manage to get out of bed, the radio show hosts were talking about a plane crashing into the north tower of the World Trade Center.
I ran to the television, and watched in horror, as did so many, as the plane hit the second tower.
As people jumped to their deaths, before the media sanitized the coverage a bit.
As news came in of a plane hitting the Pentagon.
As reports told of Flight 93 going down in a Pennsylvania field (seriously, just thinking of that story makes me cry).
As the towers fell.
I cried and I prayed and I worried. I wanted my husband of just less than 2 years home with me instead of in high-rise office building in downtown St. Louis.
I decided to leave the house for a bit to escape the coverage. I turned off the radio and drove..to get gas…to get groceries…just to see other people, I think. And I’ll never forget what I saw in the faces of the strangers I encountered.
Uncertainty and dread.
All cast against the prettiest blue sky you imagine. That’s something that just never left my memory…how on such a perfectly beautiful day, America had been dealt the harshest blow imaginable.
I ended up staying holed up in our little house watching news coverage for days. Really, it was unhealthy. I went to a couple of prayer services to get out of the house and away from the TV that I could not seem to make myself stop watching.
I remember thinking how sad it was that my own kids would have to grow up in a world that was post-9.11.
This year, the 2 older boys had questions when they came home from school on Friday, where they observed a moment of silence for the victims of the 9.11 attacks. They’re getting old enough to better understand what happened that day, but still not understanding why.
I assured them that they were not alone.