Remembering September 11th
Where were you the morning of September 11, 2001?
Most people probably distinctly remember, unless they were too young. I was hugely, uncomfortably pregnant and on maternity leave. It was my due date with M. I was sleeping in when Terence called me and told me to turn on the radio (we didn't get any TV stations at that house.) I thought he was being obnoxious early in the morning, just to interrupt my sleep (since he had to be up so early.)
I told him to leave me alone so I could go back to bed, but he insisted that I needed to turn on a radio because one of the World Trade Center towers had collapsed. It took him another five minutes to convince me he was not joking. (Anyone who knows my husband knows that he is a huge fan of playing tricks on people by telephone. "Honey, I wrecked the car. No, I really did wreck the car. I swear.")
As soon as he convinced me, I hurried on some clothes and drove to my parents' house, only a couple of miles away. I knew something was really wrong immediately, because my dad's car was pulled only halfway out of the garage and was sitting there with the driver door still wide open. He should have been off to work about an hour before I showed up.
Walking into my parents' family room, I found my parents staring in shock at the TV. I came just in time to watch the second tower crumble into dust. In horror I soon saw the carnage at the Pentagon.
The rest of the day, I watched the news obsessively with my parents. I was worried sick about Abby, who worked in the Pentagon. I wondered uneasily if any of the people I had been close to in New York had been killed. I hoped that my aunt and uncle living in Manhattan were OK. Mostly, I was numb with shock.
Sorrow mixed with pride and gratitude soon replaced the shock. People in this country rose to amazing heights. We drew together and turned to God for consolation. We were eager to help everyone around us, since most of us couldn't directly help those affected by the attacks.
It's not a bad thing to remember. Now, it's my only way to honor those who fell in the attacks and those who have fallen for our country since. Remembering the way we all pulled together after the 9/11 attacks gives me hope that our nation can still pull together, that we can still be strong but concerned about those around us and filled with gratitude. That's the country I want to raise my children in.
Most people probably distinctly remember, unless they were too young. I was hugely, uncomfortably pregnant and on maternity leave. It was my due date with M. I was sleeping in when Terence called me and told me to turn on the radio (we didn't get any TV stations at that house.) I thought he was being obnoxious early in the morning, just to interrupt my sleep (since he had to be up so early.)
I told him to leave me alone so I could go back to bed, but he insisted that I needed to turn on a radio because one of the World Trade Center towers had collapsed. It took him another five minutes to convince me he was not joking. (Anyone who knows my husband knows that he is a huge fan of playing tricks on people by telephone. "Honey, I wrecked the car. No, I really did wreck the car. I swear.")
As soon as he convinced me, I hurried on some clothes and drove to my parents' house, only a couple of miles away. I knew something was really wrong immediately, because my dad's car was pulled only halfway out of the garage and was sitting there with the driver door still wide open. He should have been off to work about an hour before I showed up.
Walking into my parents' family room, I found my parents staring in shock at the TV. I came just in time to watch the second tower crumble into dust. In horror I soon saw the carnage at the Pentagon.
The rest of the day, I watched the news obsessively with my parents. I was worried sick about Abby, who worked in the Pentagon. I wondered uneasily if any of the people I had been close to in New York had been killed. I hoped that my aunt and uncle living in Manhattan were OK. Mostly, I was numb with shock.
Sorrow mixed with pride and gratitude soon replaced the shock. People in this country rose to amazing heights. We drew together and turned to God for consolation. We were eager to help everyone around us, since most of us couldn't directly help those affected by the attacks.
It's not a bad thing to remember. Now, it's my only way to honor those who fell in the attacks and those who have fallen for our country since. Remembering the way we all pulled together after the 9/11 attacks gives me hope that our nation can still pull together, that we can still be strong but concerned about those around us and filled with gratitude. That's the country I want to raise my children in.
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