story5530.xml

story5530.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

I am not one who is shocked or feels fear as most others do. When I am faced with a situation, I see the cold, hard reality of it. Emotions never play a part. Part of this I contribute to warnings I receive. Whenever something bad is about to happen, I feel terrible pain in my stomach/abdomen. This pain always precedes my car breaking down, my relationship ending, and a hospitalization in the family to name a few, but it has also preceded the Oklahoma City bombing, the space shuttle disaster, and now September 11, 2001.

I was staying at father's home that September, waiting for my new house to be ready to move into. The evening of September 10, the stomach pains started. The pain kept me awake most of the night. Normally, I would have been up before the first plane crashed into the tower, bue due to lack of sleep, I had slept in.

My dad woke me up as soon as he heard the news. He came running into my room framtic, calling my name. He said, "Jennye, you need to wake up and watch this! They've crashed a plane into the World Trade Center!" He turned on my TV and stood there, watching.

Being half asleep, his words made no sense to me. I asked him, "Now, why would anybody want to do that?" His reply, "I don't know, but they did. You really need to see this." He went back into his room where his sister was on the phone. She had called him to tell him of the tragedy.

I looked at my TV, but in my still not quite awake stage, the images made no sense. In my mind, I had the idea of a King Kong remake. After I woke up, I sat in front of my televison, I saw the smoke billowing out of the tower, the people running in wild mayham to get to safety, but I couldn't hear the screams, or the announcers' commentary.

For the first time in my life, I was shocked. I was speechless. I had only one image, knowledge of only one plane being crashed, but the pain in my gut told me it was far from over.

The pain grew more intense, and I doubled over. When I composed myself, I sat back up to see the second tower had been hit. Yet, still, the pain was there.

I had to work in just a couple of hours, so I got ready to face my day. I came out of the shower to more smoke and fire on the screen. Only it wasn't the WTC this time. It was the Pentagon. Still, the pain had not subsided.

I went to work early knowing that my sister-my boss would need the help. I watched the people come into the gas station with their faces striken with fear. Each one had something to say, something they needed to say, and I proved to be a damn good listener because I was having a hard time forming words myself.

Later on, my sister was working outside, and I ran to her with the news. A plane had crashed in Pennsylvania. "What next?", she asked. "What else is going to happen? Where?" I gave her the only comfort I could provide. It was over. The pain that had tormented me for almost 24 hours had finally eased. I knew the plane in Pennsylvania was the last of the horror that Americans would be witnessing today.

With the pain, the shock and the speechlessness subsided as well, but I still never told my story. The reality of what had happened had set in, quicker then it had for others I'm sure. So many people, had the need to confide their fears in another, and I chose to be the confidant of everyone I came across for the next several weeks.

I did as so many Americans elsewhere did. I went on with my life. I went to work, took my daughter to school, went shopping, went to the movies...I enjoyed my life that was still ahead of me.

I also mourned for everyone who had lost theirs. I cryed for the children, not only the ones who had lost loved ones on September 11, but for all the children who had lost a piece of their innocence that day from witnessing the evil in the world.

I gave money. I didn't give near as much as others, but I gave more than I could afford. Money didn't have the same value as before.

I wanted to give blood, but I couldn't. Having been a donor for a while, I had given blood shortly before September 11, so it was too early to give again.

Most importantly, I prayed. I have never considered myself religious. I haven't been to church in over 10 years, but prayer has always been in my life. The weeks following September 11, I prayed harder and longer than ever before or since in my life. If I was awake, I was praying.

And I set out to teach my daughter that there is evil in the world. Evil of such magnitude that our imaginations can not begin to cmprehend it. I also set out to teach her that there is love in the world. Love of such magnitude that evil doesn't stand a chance.