I watched the CNN broadcast of the 9/11 Memorial Museum dedication this morning. Unavoidably, it triggered memories of that terrible day. As on most mornings, I was sitting in my office typing on the computer when my husband called to tell me a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center towers. He’d heard about it at work, where someone had a TV on in the break room.
After his call, I immediately turned on our TV and, a few minutes later, watched the second plane crash into the South Tower. Shocked and horrified, I called our daughter in North Carolina, where she lived at that time. She was at work and had not heard about the attack yet. Of course she was shocked to hear about it. I listened to her shout out the news to her co-workers. Then we hung up.
Glued to CNN, I continued to watch the terror unfold. When the South Tower collapsed I cried out in horrified disbelief. How could this be happening, and how many poor souls had just died?
Honestly, I don’t remember the sequence of what I did next. I think I called my husband first; then I again called our daughter. When I told her one tower had gone down, she mouthed several words I can’t repeat here. She again passed on the terrible news to her co-workers, and I heard them cry out in shock. I recall we both hoped desperately that the North Tower would not fall.
Our hopes were dashed a short while later. For the rest of that day and the days that followed, I remained close to the TV, praying rescuers would find more survivors in the twisted, burning rubble, and grieving with the rest of our nation and people around the world.
Where were you on 9/11? What were you doing? How did you learn about the attack? I suspect the memory is burned into your brain, as it is in mine.