story4128.xml
Title
story4128.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-11
911DA Story: Story
My name is Mandice and I am 27 years old. At my age and in the short years I've lived on this planet, I have never experienced so much devestation so quickly in my life. Older generations speak of the World Wars, Vietnam, and the Korean war. I've only read about these events in my history books. Even during Desert Storm, It was so far removed that I never comprehended the impact. Now, I have an entirely new perspective on my freedom and what it means to me.
The day of the attacks, I was on my way to work. (It was around 7:00 a.m. MST.) I parked my car and got out, only to meet a stranger standing in front of me. He said,
"Did you hear about the accident?"
Not quite comprehending what he meant, I tried to recall what the traffic reporter had announced earlier that morning. I seemed to remember an accident somewhere on the highway, but nothing concrete.
"No," I said "What accident?" He then told me that a plane had hit one of the "buildings" in New York City. "How awful," I thought but I still had no idea what had happened.
Upon entering an empty office, my cell phone rang.
"Mandice, did you hear what happened," my husband asked me frantically.
"Yeah, I heard something, but I'm not really sure what's going on."
"An airplane just crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings!" At that, I darted around the corner to see if anyone else had made it to work. Two others, besides myself, were settling.
I hurriedly reported everything my husband said to me as he watched the events unfold on our television at home. All I could feel for the first hour or two was shock. I couldn't really grasp what was happening. We tried to watch the events on the television in the office, but without an antennae, it was difficult to make out anything. Once I could discern the buildings, the planes and the smoke, I began to weep.
I cried for the people who were killed so unjustly. I cried for the people struggling to get out of the buildings. I cried for those who lept from the buildings to their ultimate fates below. I cried for those scrambling to help those who were hurt. As soon as the tears began to dry up, I realized something else. Mothers and fathers tire daily to nurture and support their children. They do so without asking anything in return, but the reward for doing so astronomical. The love of a child and the love of a parent for a child is unmeasured...I began to weep for the mothers and fathers who would never again hold their children in their arms.
Within three to four hours of being at work, our President finally told us that we could go home, if we wished. (I honestly wish I had left much sooner, but I was still in so much shock.) I rushed to my car and made my way to my daughter's daycare. When I arrived, most of the children were gone. I found my daughter and hugged her with all my might. If she had been able to speak, I'm sure she would have asked me to stop. I just couldn't. I needed to hold her and thank God for her at that moment.
After packing her in the car, we made our twenty minute commute back home listening to the announcers on the radio. At one point, I felt tempted to turn it off because I felt that I had had enough but then I felt that the least I could do for those who were suffering was listen. This would place me as close to them as I could possibly get.
When I arrived home, my husband, sister and sister-in-law were sitting in front of televsion looking as I did earlier....perplexed-just trying to take it all in. I think that was the feeling of most of us in the U.S. at that time. We just couldn't grasp that something so awful could happen to us. And then, why us? Weren't we the most powerful nation in the world...the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Now, a year later, I still wonder why and I still cry. I also pray. I pray that nothing like this ever happens again. I pray that we take nothing for granted and remember what's most important in our lives. I pray that our leaders remain clear-headed and strong, so that they can make the best decisions for our country. Finally, I pray for those who harbor hatred in their hearts, that they find peace within themselves and learn to love.
The day of the attacks, I was on my way to work. (It was around 7:00 a.m. MST.) I parked my car and got out, only to meet a stranger standing in front of me. He said,
"Did you hear about the accident?"
Not quite comprehending what he meant, I tried to recall what the traffic reporter had announced earlier that morning. I seemed to remember an accident somewhere on the highway, but nothing concrete.
"No," I said "What accident?" He then told me that a plane had hit one of the "buildings" in New York City. "How awful," I thought but I still had no idea what had happened.
Upon entering an empty office, my cell phone rang.
"Mandice, did you hear what happened," my husband asked me frantically.
"Yeah, I heard something, but I'm not really sure what's going on."
"An airplane just crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings!" At that, I darted around the corner to see if anyone else had made it to work. Two others, besides myself, were settling.
I hurriedly reported everything my husband said to me as he watched the events unfold on our television at home. All I could feel for the first hour or two was shock. I couldn't really grasp what was happening. We tried to watch the events on the television in the office, but without an antennae, it was difficult to make out anything. Once I could discern the buildings, the planes and the smoke, I began to weep.
I cried for the people who were killed so unjustly. I cried for the people struggling to get out of the buildings. I cried for those who lept from the buildings to their ultimate fates below. I cried for those scrambling to help those who were hurt. As soon as the tears began to dry up, I realized something else. Mothers and fathers tire daily to nurture and support their children. They do so without asking anything in return, but the reward for doing so astronomical. The love of a child and the love of a parent for a child is unmeasured...I began to weep for the mothers and fathers who would never again hold their children in their arms.
Within three to four hours of being at work, our President finally told us that we could go home, if we wished. (I honestly wish I had left much sooner, but I was still in so much shock.) I rushed to my car and made my way to my daughter's daycare. When I arrived, most of the children were gone. I found my daughter and hugged her with all my might. If she had been able to speak, I'm sure she would have asked me to stop. I just couldn't. I needed to hold her and thank God for her at that moment.
After packing her in the car, we made our twenty minute commute back home listening to the announcers on the radio. At one point, I felt tempted to turn it off because I felt that I had had enough but then I felt that the least I could do for those who were suffering was listen. This would place me as close to them as I could possibly get.
When I arrived home, my husband, sister and sister-in-law were sitting in front of televsion looking as I did earlier....perplexed-just trying to take it all in. I think that was the feeling of most of us in the U.S. at that time. We just couldn't grasp that something so awful could happen to us. And then, why us? Weren't we the most powerful nation in the world...the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Now, a year later, I still wonder why and I still cry. I also pray. I pray that nothing like this ever happens again. I pray that we take nothing for granted and remember what's most important in our lives. I pray that our leaders remain clear-headed and strong, so that they can make the best decisions for our country. Finally, I pray for those who harbor hatred in their hearts, that they find peace within themselves and learn to love.
Collection
Citation
“story4128.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 8, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/3921.