story1505.xml
Title
story1505.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-08-27
911DA Story: Story
It Was Going To Be A Beautiful Day
As I went to bed that evening, I looked forward to the next day. It was going to be a beautiful day, a special day. A beautiful day weatherwise; a special day because we were going to celebrate our 53 rd. wedding anniversary.
That next morning, I slept-in as was my habit. ?Sleeping-in? for me the night owl meant I would get up about 8:00 A.M. Although my husband had risen earlier, as was his usual habit,he always rose quietly and left the bedroom, closing the door so as not to disturb me. While I slept,he enjoyed the relative peace and read the newspaper while sitting in his armchair.Such is his routine.
I was therefore surprised to find him leaning over the bed and gently kissing me awake. Upon opening my eyes I could see that despite the fact that the blinds were still closed, the sunlight leaked through the louvers. Another blessed day which was a special day for us and that was why he was waking me. Was there a surprise in store?
He was saying that our daughter had called and said something that I had difficulty focusing on.Planes had hit the World Trade Center towers. My mind and heart raced and before I raised my head from the pillow, I burst into tears. Actually, I bawled because of the memories that flooded in. Memories of our last visit to New York City during which we had spent five days studying the history of lower Manhattan. During that visit, the Marriott Millennium Hotel was our home. It nestled between the soaring 110 storied-towers almost like a sleeping puppy between its master?s feet.And, each morning,as we exited the lobby of the hotel, we walked in the open plaza between the Towers enroute to our rendezvous with our guide and fellow classmates. As we walked, the contraflow of people streaming towards and into the Towers , seemed to be like the march of many foot soldiers of a modern army poised for the day to be combatants for their daily bread.
We too were foot soldiers as we went about our explorations of Lower Manhattan and visited sites of its early history. Wall Street,known world-wide as the center of finance got its name because there was a wall that defined and protected the original Dutch colony. A subway ride to Brooklyn enabled us to stand on the promenade at Brooklyn Heights and imagine General Washington?s troops battle the Redcoats to regain a foothold on Manhattan Island. The experience of walking back to Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge was an experience to be savored. And always enroute, the experience of the architecture and street art excited me who had once been an urban planner.
And thus each evening footsore and weary, we returned to the plaza between the Towers enroute to our hotel. Again, we met the contraflow of some of the thousands of people exiting from the buildings enroute to their places of rest and comfort. But, on September 11,2001 that was not to be.
For those who were lost and not found, and for those whose mortal remains have not been found,nor never will be, I ask where is their rest and solace? And those that they loved and those that loved them, will there ever be a satisfactory closure of the wounds that pierced their hearts much like the piercing of the Towers by the planes flown into them? And again, a lament from the past is heard. A voice raised in anguish hoarsely screams,?Oh the humanity?.
August 2002
As I went to bed that evening, I looked forward to the next day. It was going to be a beautiful day, a special day. A beautiful day weatherwise; a special day because we were going to celebrate our 53 rd. wedding anniversary.
That next morning, I slept-in as was my habit. ?Sleeping-in? for me the night owl meant I would get up about 8:00 A.M. Although my husband had risen earlier, as was his usual habit,he always rose quietly and left the bedroom, closing the door so as not to disturb me. While I slept,he enjoyed the relative peace and read the newspaper while sitting in his armchair.Such is his routine.
I was therefore surprised to find him leaning over the bed and gently kissing me awake. Upon opening my eyes I could see that despite the fact that the blinds were still closed, the sunlight leaked through the louvers. Another blessed day which was a special day for us and that was why he was waking me. Was there a surprise in store?
He was saying that our daughter had called and said something that I had difficulty focusing on.Planes had hit the World Trade Center towers. My mind and heart raced and before I raised my head from the pillow, I burst into tears. Actually, I bawled because of the memories that flooded in. Memories of our last visit to New York City during which we had spent five days studying the history of lower Manhattan. During that visit, the Marriott Millennium Hotel was our home. It nestled between the soaring 110 storied-towers almost like a sleeping puppy between its master?s feet.And, each morning,as we exited the lobby of the hotel, we walked in the open plaza between the Towers enroute to our rendezvous with our guide and fellow classmates. As we walked, the contraflow of people streaming towards and into the Towers , seemed to be like the march of many foot soldiers of a modern army poised for the day to be combatants for their daily bread.
We too were foot soldiers as we went about our explorations of Lower Manhattan and visited sites of its early history. Wall Street,known world-wide as the center of finance got its name because there was a wall that defined and protected the original Dutch colony. A subway ride to Brooklyn enabled us to stand on the promenade at Brooklyn Heights and imagine General Washington?s troops battle the Redcoats to regain a foothold on Manhattan Island. The experience of walking back to Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge was an experience to be savored. And always enroute, the experience of the architecture and street art excited me who had once been an urban planner.
And thus each evening footsore and weary, we returned to the plaza between the Towers enroute to our hotel. Again, we met the contraflow of some of the thousands of people exiting from the buildings enroute to their places of rest and comfort. But, on September 11,2001 that was not to be.
For those who were lost and not found, and for those whose mortal remains have not been found,nor never will be, I ask where is their rest and solace? And those that they loved and those that loved them, will there ever be a satisfactory closure of the wounds that pierced their hearts much like the piercing of the Towers by the planes flown into them? And again, a lament from the past is heard. A voice raised in anguish hoarsely screams,?Oh the humanity?.
August 2002
911DA Story: Contributor
Estelle Feinstein
Collection
Citation
“story1505.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed May 19, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/19708.