That Day

I remember that day. It doesn’t feel like there’s been twenty years between now and then. The feelings are just a visceral today as they were on that day. 

I remember getting a phone call from our son. I was still in bed asleep and the call woke me up. “Mom,” he said, “Something horrible has happened. I think we are at war.”

I remember I turned on the television in my room and watched in horror as the news reporter described the events unfolding. And even as he stood there, Tower Two began the very quick process of collapsing. 

I remember the next two planes. Fear set in as I wondered with my country…is there more? Will this day end without anyone else dying in this?

I remember getting ready for a meeting I was speaking at that morning. The numbness of trying to understand what I had just seen. 

I remember that as I walked into the meeting hall, the tears, the silence, the blank stares of those around me. We quickly got through the meeting and hugged one another and left. Each of us dealing with the horrific news that started this day. 

I remember getting into the car and looking at my husband. “Let’s help somehow.”

I remember driving to the nearest blood bank center. The driveway was overflowing. We walked through the doors. There were so many people waiting to give blood I couldn’t move. We waited three hours. We were finally told to come back another time. They had run out of supplies.

I remember waiting for our two youngest to get home from school. Our daughter ran into my arms. I just held her. Our youngest son looked at me with anger and hurt in his eyes. “Why?” he asked. I didn’t have an answer. I still don’t…twenty years later. 

I remember stopping by the store. I held the door open for a young Middle Eastern Mom. Her children looked at me with suspicion. She looked at me in surprise. She started crying. I held her hand. Sometimes, there are no words. 

I remember the days afterwards. As we stayed glued to the tv. Watching the Towers come down over and over. Watching the Missing Persons Bulliten Board be shown. Watching tear streaked faces, tears running through the dirt and ash on their cheeks. 

I remember having to turn off the tv. To distance myself from the grief that gripped our country. To give myself time to grieve quietly without the background sound of the news. 

I remember waking up this morning. Pain still real. Grieving with my family and friends. Grieving with the cities we adopted. Grieving with my country. Twenty years have gone by. 

But we still Remember That Day.