Since I won't be near a computer over the weekend, I've decided to share my reflections of September 11th with you today. These were my own personal memories and experiences from that day. It is still very painful to even think about that day. There are still some of my memories and experiences from that time that I cannot share.
I woke up early that day because I couldn't sleep. I had tossed and turned for nearly an hour before deciding to get up. I went into the living room and turned on the television and flipped to the news. The first plane had already hit the first tower and the initial reports were that it was a missile. I was stunned.
Then the second plane hit the second tower and I was horrified. I began to panic. Were we under attack? Was this the beginning of a war? Why was this happening?
I called the Hot Tamale at work to let him know what was happening. I called my parents to let them know what had happened because they don't watch television. That was when I really got scared. That was the first time in my entire life that I remember hearing fear in my parents' voices. I finally broke down in sobs and pleaded with them to tell me how we would ever be able to get through this. They talked about the day that JFK was assassinated and how everyone walked around in a state of shock for days and weeks and months afterward, completely shell-shocked. But they also reassured me that we
would get through it and that it would be something that would stay with us for the rest of our lives.
I then called my sister, Wonder Woman, as she was in the military at that time and would be headed to her job on base. Since she had been on her way to work when the first attacks took place, she didn't know that much about what was going on. As we were talking, reports of the plane hitting the Pentagon were coming in and I told her what had happened. She hollered the news to those around her and I could hear a commotion ensue. People running. People yelling. They needed to start accounting for their personnel. They needed to start backing up computers. I had to get off the phone. I didn't want to hang up with her as I was afraid that I would never talk to her again. But I had to because she had a job to do.
I called my parents again to let them know that my sister was okay. Then my stepson, the Thespian, woke up. I had to tell him what had happened but still reassure him that we were going to be okay. How was I supposed to tell a child about the horrific events that had transpired when I couldn't even make sense of it myself?
He later told me that his first memory of that tragic day was of me, standing in the hallway, with big, tear-filled eyes, peering out from a completely ashen and horror-stricken face, and with trembling voice, telling him that we had been attacked but that I wasn't sure what was happening. I had him go ahead and get ready for school.
I continued to watch the news coverage while I prepared for work. I knew this would be the end of our world as we had known it. Then came the news of the plane going down in a field near Shanksville, PA. It had possibly been headed to Camp David. My heart shattered into a million pieces at the overwhelming feeling of loss. So many had died and I knew that. And not knowing exactly what was going on or what to do was
very disconcerting.
I tried to compose myself and get the Thespian off to school. Then I called the Hot Tamale again and asked him what I should do with his son. I couldn't leave him at school. We both worked far enough away from the school and if something were to happen, we wouldn't be able to get to him. We both agreed that I would go and check him out of school and take him with me to work.
When I arrived at his school, there was a stream of parents who were already there to take their children out of school.
Most of the rest of that day was a blur. I continually watched and listened to the news coverage. For hours. For days. For weeks. For months. I didn't lose anyone close to me that day, yet I still felt a very profound loss. I think we all did. The entire world.
But there is actually a bittersweet story from that day. It was the first time that I ever spoke to my Baby Bro. He had been raised by another family back in the Washington DC area. His parents worked in positions that would give them reason to periodically be in the Pentagon. I called their home to make sure they hadn't been there that day. He answered the phone and I knew immediately that it was him. I had never spoken to him before but I just knew it was him . . . my Baby Brother. Once we had established that his parents were safe and sound, we started to talk. We talked about everything as though we had never lived apart. We were like old friends. I think we talked for about 5 or 6 hours that night. If that tragic day had never happened, I don't know if I would have ever established any sort of tie with my Baby Brother. But now, he's like my best friend.
He went on to join the Marines as the result of September 11th and served a tour of duty in Iraq.
Wonder Woman also went on to serve a tour of duty in Kuwait.
Still, to this day, I am still shell-shocked when I see images from that day. I have had other memories from that day that are
still too painful to share . . .
10 years later.
