story3708.xml

story3708.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

God it was a beautiful day! I love New York in September. There is this wonderful hill--a rise from water level--that lines the coast of NJ. Driving this route allows the most beautiful view of the entire skyline of the City. It's breathtaking. As I drove from the top of the hill down the bridge to get to River Road, I always scanned the City. Nothing, on this day, was amiss. I joined the ranks of commuters amongst the streets and buildings of Hoboken. I negociated the traffic and as I waited at a stoplight, I heard the radio announcer say, "oh, my God, something's going on at the World Trade Center! The whole top of it is on fire!" Though I was still in a very dense area of Hoboken, I happened to be situated at the only place in a long stretch of road, which allowed a clear view of the Trade Centers. And, there it was. I could see, clearly, the sideways gash in the building and the top of the building had just started to smoke.

I got on the cell phone and called my husband who was still at home (but who had planned a trip into the City that noon, via the WTC). I called my parents in Texas and assured them neither of us were in the WTC. None of them knew of the tragedy yet. I pulled the car over (strange that many cars just continued along the road, seemingly unaware of the situation), I got out along with another man who had just pulled up. We stood on the shore watching the billowing smoke and ticking through our friends' names in our mind, who might be there. We talked little. Then, down the shore, and only for a moment, I could see it coming. I thought it was a bird and I thought, for only a split second, how peaceful that bird was not knowing or comprehending the horror that humans were suffering right now. It turned, like a cobra ready to strike and I knew, instantly what the entire thing represented, what it would mean for me and my family, and what it would mean to our country. Then nothing. Only the sound of the waves from the river and the seagulls above were heard. I waited for the shock wave of the impact to hit us. Then I heard it. Not the sound of the impact, but the distant screams--they were my screams.

I actually finished the drive to work--though I don't remember how. Once there, I walked to the window, the same window from which I had recently admired the City view. Soon, it was gone. Everything. The horror obscured by a veil of white which was slowly encompassing lower Manhattan.

I got home after a 2 1/2 hour drive. Hugged my husband for a long time and then sat in a stupor and watched the TV. We walked, as if on a pilgrimage, to the shore--along with many, many others. We all watched from the shore as tower 7 fell, and again, there was not a sound--only the sparkle of glass as it exploded. There were newly-homeless among us, and many gathered to hear their stories of escape and terror. Some had never been to New Jersey before and didn't know how to get back, or where to go when they got there. People were offering their apartments as a place to stay, or just for a shower and a place to eat. Many had secured the last remaining hotel rooms, choosing to share rooms with total strangers.

It was the start of a new New York.