September 11, 2009

Every year, at the beginning of September, I feel a sense of doom. The weather is cooler, dryer, the sky is crystal blue and my mind makes the flash connection to a similar day eight years ago. I remember that morning. I had the day off and I was getting ready to go shopping with my mother. My husband called to tell me he was alright. I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Why are you calling me?" I asked. "Did you have trouble on the train?"

"You didn't hear?" Then, "Turn on the TV; two planes went into the World Trade Center."

As I watched the images on my television I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I couldn't speak as I held the phone to my ear and listened to my husband's breathing. I wanted him home safe with me. Was I safe? Where was my other son? Had he gone to work in the city that day? My hands began to feel tingly, staccato thoughts flew through my head. Were there other planes flying across the country dropping bombs? My oldest son was in the navy, stationed in California at the time; was he alright? My youngest was in high school. Would he make it home safely? Why did we have to be so scattered?

My mind raced frantically trying to think about all the other people I knew who traveled to the city to work: my son, my uncle, cousins, my friend. I began calling my son and couldn't reach him; same with my friend who was seven months pregnant. I began to feel the rise in my throat, the panic and tears at the thought of losing them.

I remember going around the house locking all the doors and windows, as if that would keep me safe. I pulled the shades down around the house. I wanted to crawl into a safe place and stay there until the reality could penetrate. What was happening? My legs were shaky and I felt as if the ground was shifting under my feet.

My son finally called from his ship to make sure everyone was safe. The navy was on high alert and he wouldn't be able to call again for a while. He asked about his father and brother. Did they ride the subway today? He had been warning them for weeks to take alternate transportation to work. Did he know something that we didn't? I told him I loved him as silent tears fell and I grabbed the phone with white knuckles. As long as I could hear his voice, hear his breathing, I felt some sense of relief in his safety. When he hung up I kept the phone to my ear as if this could hold him to me a little bit longer.

The silence after that phone call was palpable. I broke down and buried my face in my hands and cried. I had flash memories of all of my children as babies, then toddlers, teens and now young men. Had I told them I loved them enough throughout their lives? I wanted to go back in time and hold them safely in my arms to protect them from the evils in the world. Had I prepared them enough for this new world to come?