Thursday, September 11, 2008

September 11

7 years. It's hard to believe it has been that long since that horrible day. Taylor was almost 10 months old, I had just quit my job at the hospital the Friday before, so we were sleeping in. We got up, I fed Taylor, then sat down to watch the Today Show. Taylor was on my lap and I remember being so annoyed that channel 5 was showing a movie so early in the morning, and if they were going to show a movie, couldn't it at least be a happy one that early in the morning? I'll watch Good Morning America instead (we didn't have cable, so my choices were limited). Channel 13 was showing the same movie, as were channel 11 and 17. What was going on? I remember looking at these images on the screen, not being able to comprehend that this wasn't a movie. It was real. What a horrible accident.

I had plans to go into town, so we shut the TV off, got in the car, and started our 20 minute drive. I had the radio on when they announced a second plane had hit the 2nd tower. I call my mom, and while we were trying to figure out what was going on...were these just 2 bizaare accidents? suicides? surely not an attack on America - who would do such a thing?...the radio announcer comes on and said they've attacked the Pentagon. My God. I don't remember anything from the time I got to HWY 6 to the time we got back home a few hours later. I turned the TV on again to learn about Flight 93, and just couldn't quit watching and holding Taylor as tight as I possibly could, wondering what kind of world I brought him into.

We didn't know anybody in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania. We didn't know any of the passengers or flight crews. But I cried just the same. I cried for our country, for those who lost their lives, for those who lost loved ones. I cried for those who were at Ground Zero looking and hoping for survivors. I cried and held onto my baby.

This is what we talked about this morning before school. Remember 9/11.


  1. I can relate to your blog so well. I too, was holding my 9 month old daughter and could not understand what was happening. I hopped in my car and went to my parents house. My dad, being a WWII veteran started to cry...he knew...we were under attack. He said "Not our country, not on our soil!" We held hands and began to pray and cry and I just held on to my baby girl, ever so tight. BETH

  2. Beth,
    It's amazing how the WWII generation seemed to automatically know that it was an attack while it seemed to take the younger generations a little longer to realize what was happening. My grandpa was also a WWII vet, and 9/11 brought back all the fears and memories of Pearl Harbor. I was at his house when a lady came on TV, she was about my mom's age, and said something about this being the first attack on US soil, and we need to learn from this and never forget. Grandpa started yelling at her about how this wasn't the first attack and that she should be ashamed for forgetting PH. I only pray that it was the last attack.


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