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Tuesday, September 11, 2012

What was I doing on 9/11?

That's the question to which M wanted to know the answer. I thought back to that day 11 years ago.
It was a slightly out-of-routine start to the morning. S had been sick the previous evening, and I decided to keep him home instead of sending him to school. M was a baby, not quite a year old, just the age of crawling and getting into things. She took a mini-nap, while S watched his favorite cartoons on the TV.
The phone rang, and my friend excitedly urged me "Turn to CNN, a plane crashed into the World Trade Center". How horrible an accident, I thought, as I switched channels.
A moment later, another figure came out of nowhere, and flew into the second tower. S and I were shocked at what we had seen. "Was that another plane?", he asked. Indeed it was.
More panic set in as the anchors intoned the 'America is under attack' phrase. There were other similar hijacked planes out there, one heading for DC, another heading, maybe for Pittsburgh. I got a call from my husband, they had an office not too far from the airport, and had been advised to stay off the roads, with the possibility of the plane coming in for a landing.
Flight 93 crashed in Shanksville PA, not too far away from Pittsburgh. No one can say where that plane was headed with certainty, though guesses have been made.
This 9/11, I was in office, S is in a university not far from Ground Zero, where he is afforded the sight of the sunlight glinting off the new tower going up  where the WTC once stood. M was in school, maintaining her moment of silence with the rest of a generation that must now strain to remember what they did when 9/11 happened.

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