Sunday, September 11, 2011

I remember...

I was nursing my 9 month old baby son, when the house phone rang.  It was Dave telling me that "some idiot pilot" just crashed into a building in New York City. He said it was all over the news so to turn on the tv to see what he was talking about.

We hung up, I found the remote and turned on the news.  Sure enough there it was.  A planes tail sticking out of the tower.  I started thinking about what a freak, horrible accident that was.  Wondering what could have been wrong with the plane that the pilot couldn't have missed the building.  As I sat there watching the news coverage, the other plane hit. I stared at the tv in shock.  What were the chances that two plane pilots had the same problems with their planes and hit buildings right next to each other?

Something was wrong.
Horribly wrong.

I felt glued to the tv.  Listening to the news people trying to figure out what was happening.  Watching as people were running away from the scene trying to escape.  Hearing the sirens, seeing the smoke, watching people jump from the buildings...all while sitting on the couch, holding my new baby.

I was still watching the tv when the buildings fell.
The first one.
Then the second one.
I remember how the tv seemed to go silent as nobody knew what to say.
I remember the tears streaming down my face.
I remember shaking with sobs as I held my son as tightly as possible.

As the reports came in that the Pentagon was hit with a plane and then a plane going down in a field, I called Dave back and begged him to come home.  I was terrified that at any moment I was going to hear a plane outside.  It seemed that all the planes were being hi-jacked and we were just waiting for the next one to go down or hit something.

As the day went on, airports shut down and other flights landed safely, but I couldn't shake the feeling that more bad things were going to happen.  For the first time in my life, I didn't feel safe in my country.  I waited for bombs, other attacks, and my nerves were shot.

That whole day I don't think I ever left my couch.  I sat there with my baby wondering about how his life was going to be different because of what had happened.

Yesterday, he asked me about that day.  He's 10 now.  He wanted to know why somebody would do that? Why would they kill so many people? How were they able to do it?  He knows that they caught the "bad guy".  He knows that because of that day his Uncle {my brother} decided to become a Marine and that he along with many other brave men and women work every day to protect us.  He said he is proud that he lives in the United States.

I am too!

I still remember.
I will NEVER forget.

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