I was at my kitchen table, drinking coffee.
The TV was on while I was reading and I was writing my to-do list. I had tons of errands to run, on the way back from the gym and was also meeting a friend for lunch. The phone rings, it’s my friend ” is your news on? The WTC tower has a major fire in the top floors. It’s being shown.” So I flip channels, and realize it is a thick black smoke that is steadily growing fierce. As I watch “omg, did you see that? That’s a plane that went straight into the tower. God, all those people, why on earth would the pilot do that, it did’nt look it was out-of-control, it went straight in!”
News was unfolding and I increased the volume to hear better. I could hear the shock, surprise, and utter chaos at the newsroom and reporters. It was breaking news manna. Through the absolute intensity of what was happening in front of our eyes, the effect had not yet sunk in. The extent of destruction, and the atrocity of the event was something no one tried to comprehend then.
My first thought was to call my husband. His company was under lock down as understood and so with the network down, and the radio inaccssible, I became his team’s ears and eyes, as I translated the comments, and making sense of the feed that was happening. As I stood rooted watching gray smoke billowing and people scattering around, with sheer panic on their faces, reporters and commentators coming to make sense of what hit us, my thoughts went back and forth to the folks inside the building to the ones in the plane.
It was a horrific scene.
Breaking news swept closer home. Pentagon was hit.
That shook me out of my role as a distant spectator. As selfish as I may sound, I wanted to hold my kids and I wanted them now. A hurried bye and a take care to my husband I called the kids’ schools. Both declared that the parents were more than welcome to pick up their kids if they wanted to, but the school was continuing on, under guard.
I drove like a maniac picked my son up, drove to my daughter’s school, waited in line with the rest of the parents, showed my id to enter school to converse with the office staff. There were 2 burly officers at the entrance, and that rare sight created both a panic and a sense of security in me. Driving back, I could see scores of cars on an otherwise empty road. The panic had set in. In the meanwhile I’d called and alerted a few of our friends, checked in on my sister, and called India to tell my parents that we were okay. The phone lines were getting jammed slowly.
My daughter’s teacher’s dad worked in the 2nd tower, she was visibly shaken but had a brave face as the others around her broke down. A friend couldn’t reach her sister who worked in the building next to WTC. My neighbor’s brother was at the Pentagon. She couldn’t reach him on the phone, and I could see her pace up and down the driveway.
The weather was beautiful. Blue skies, and temperature so perfect, you could walk bare feet in the grass. I hurried my kids in as I looked up and realized that it was as deceptive as could be. The calmness that the skies portrayed was all a fat lie.
Now as I look back, and read stories about kids born during the year and posthumously, the beautiful children who have been robbed of a parent, and the different ways their life has changed forever, I feel a sadness that’s beyond what I can express. I am sure they all will move on, and find comfort in their own unique ways, but the fact still remains that a minute is all it takes to turn your world upside down.
You do what you have to do and then life goes on.