My 911

I was thinking about eleven years ago today. How out of the corner of my eye I saw a building on fire on the tv in the bedroom as I rushed to grab shoes and usher my younger son out to the van for the daily trek to school. Just a few minutes earlier Michael had called out good-bye as he bounded out the front door for his two block walk to the middle school. Ten minutes prior to that I had kissed my husband farewell for the day and handed him the sack lunch I had prepared. I dropped Reid off and watched him run toward the building, backpack bobbing up and down, the sunlight glinting off his shiny brownish blond hair. What I remember more clearly than anything else is what a beautiful Fall day it was. Crisp and cool, the sky clear and brilliantly blue. On the drive back home I had the window down and was mentally running the day's to-do list. I meant to start the first of many loads of laundry and to wash up the breakfast dishes. But I couldn't tear myself away from the tv, so I turned all of them on. In those days, I'll give my ex credit for this little item, there was a tv in practically every room. They were all tuned in to the Today show on NBC. So I began my day's work, going from room to room collecting laundry and sorting it. And viewing that same film clip over and over again of the World Trade Center billowing smoke and crashing to the ground. Allen called me from work and said he was coming home, his office was all abuzz and he didn't see himself getting any work done. I fought the urge to go their schools and pull the boys from their classes and bring them home. To have them near me. To know they were safe from harm. Allen said no. That they were fine. That we should try as much as possible to have an otherwise normal day. We went grocery shopping together. Eventually our sons were home from school. We had dinner. Homework was completed. We all went to bed. I don't remember if I cried. I do remember feeling numb and horrified. On the surface it had been a regular Tuesday in September. But underneath, it would never be the same again.