My 9/11

I have spent spurts and moments recollecting that morning ten years ago, but never fully indulging my memory. This is my attempt to make the time to do that. I had gotten up at my usual 4:30 AM for a run (one of the many things that are different now). I put on my armband radio with headphones and started out into the dark. The weather had been warm and clear and gorgeous during the day, which meant that it was a little cooler in the dark--much like the weather is right now, in fact. My usual talk radio show wasn't on, and as I began my warm up trot, I tried to figure out just exactly what was being broadcast. Something had happened, and I didn't know if this was a live report or a recording. When I could surmise that it was not a local broadcast, I assumed it was a recording since the nation's news day was half over by the time most people started their day in Hawaii. So I continued to jog, expecting the chaotic noise I was hearing to eventually be explained by a calm reporter. Trying to make sense of what I was hearing became increasingly difficult. Everything about my morning was routine. And yet, somehow, as I ran along, it was simultaneously not routine at all. The craziness I was listening to was juxtaposed against my pitch black, very typical surroundings. I couldn't see clearly, and the neighborhood was its typically silent self. Most people were still snug in their beds, unaware of what was taking place at the other end of the country. Finally, I heard someone attempt a recap: Two planes had purposefully hit the World Trade Center towers one and two. One tower was down. That was all that I could understand, as even the reporter--remote from the actual situation--was speaking in a hysterical voice. Without realizing it, I had been running faster and faster as I listened to the events unfold. By the time I realized it, I had run nearly twice my usual distance. I came home into a dark house. I was breathing heavily, and as I entered the kitchen, my whole family was oddly awake and standing before me in a line. I still don't know why they were awake or how they all ended up there like that, but I was so glad to see each of them was just fine. I opened my mouth to try to tell my husband what had happened, and I began to sob uncontrollably. I had been running for nearly an hour in the dark, trying to absorb what I was hearing, and not responding at all. That opportunity to finally react opened the proverbial floodgates, and I now sounded like the reporter I could barely understand on my radio. Finally, I was able to say, "We're under attack, the World Trade Center Collapsed." My husband could not believe it. Surely I had gotten something wrong. "Those towers were built to take a hit by a plane..." he said. We turned on the television and both towers were standing there, smoke billowing out of them. "See," he said, "there's no way..." Just then, the video showed the south tower's collapse and we both realized it was not a live shot. Many things followed in that day, some I recall clearly, and others not at all. I remember calling the headmaster of the kids' school, and informing him of what had happened. I remember wanting my kids within my sight. And I remember, that very day, knowing that my country would not be the same country that my kids knew. It broke my heart, as it still does. Well, that's about all I can muster right now, as life's duties call...