story4613.xml

story4613.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

I remember waking up that morning and getting dressed for work. I remember saying to my husband, "Today is 9-1-1." Of all the years of my life that the 9-1-1 emergency system was in place and September 11th has come, I had never said that. "Today is 9-1-1."

Later that morning, a co-worker told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. When she said it, it was like I was in the twilight zone. Like I was in a movie or something. It wasn't real. I immediately got on the phone and the Internet and started checking news resources.

A few minutes later, I heard someone coming down the hall say that another plane had crashed into the other tower. At that precise moment, it hit me. Reality crushed me and I felt a fear like none I can remember ever having had before or since. When I heard about the pentagon, I felt threatened and afraid for those who worked there and for our President. When I heard that the tower had fallen, I felt pain. And I just wanted to be with my family. That's all.

I remember my boss trying to be sympathetic, but trying to get done what work absolutely had to get done before I left. I remember feeling a building pressure that I needed to go home, and the longer I stayed there, the more anxious I felt about leaving. When I heard on MSNBC.com that another plane had crashed in Pennsylvania, the emotion simply became too great. The impact of what was happening was bitterly overwhelming, and I could not stay at work any longer. I needed to be with the people who were most important to me.

I remember crying on my way home. Listening to the radio, and feeling mournful for the senseless loss of so many lives. I remember wishing I could be there to help those desperate and lost people who were taking the longest walk of their lives to get home, who were putting out fires and trying to save lives. I wanted to be there to help them. I wanted to reach out and hold them and cry with them. All I could do was give to the American Red Cross. So we gave what we could, which wasn't much, but it was all we had.

We watched TV for the next several days. I went to work the next day wearing all black mourning the lives lost. So many. So senseless. I hurt deeply. The following day, I wore my patriotic red, white, and blue. My coworkers and I discussed it time and time again. There was no healing. There was bitterness and anger and pain and despair.

Ours was an international facility. We had workers from all over the world. We tried to maintain a sense of community or at least tolerance at work, but the workers were feeling the same things we were. Some felt fear. Some hatred. This was a profoundly difficult time for all of us.

Flags could not be found, so we got on our computers and made t-shirts at home. Even one for our baby. We were "Proud to be American" because of what it meant. Because of how these times brought us together as a people in a way that only tragedy can. We struggle for civil rights and human rights all the time within. A fight within a family is not an unordinary thing. But when someone attacks the family from outside, the family must come together to protect itself and every single one of its members. That's what America did. That's what made us proud. That's what makes me proud today.

I lit candles with the nation in remembrance of so many who died, so many whose lives were changed by this brutal stupidity. I lit candles with the nation in a display of hope and solidarity that none could shatter. I lit candles with the nation in the promise of patriotism, a reaffirmation that this country is my home -- my motherland. The land of the free, dammit. And the home of the brave. God Bless Our Souls.

END