Just like in 2001 my day started early this morning. But it was different. My son is now 26 years old, not 15. And the man that I’ve loved for the past four years was headed to the airport because he had to fly to Los Angeles for a doctors appointment.
He and I were joking last night about the fact that he can’t even remember the last time he flew in a plane. I haven’t flown for many years either. It’s not because of what happened on 9/11 because we have certainly flown since then. It’s just that our lives took a turn and at the moment we just don’t travel the way we used to.
He called me before the plane took off and he called me again when he landed. He told me that the flight went smooth and that it wasn’t near as bad as you thought it might be because the plane wasn’t crowded. In fact, he said there was three seats to every passenger and then some. I wonder if that’s because it’s a weekday and flights are typically less crowded or if people were afraid to fly because of today’s date.
I’m hoping it’s because it’s a weekday and if not, I’m very thankful that I don’t carry that fear with me and that I’m able to live my life without allowing what the terrorist groups did that day to cause me to worry over a simple one-hour flight. I’m guessing that there are those people in the United States that do live with that fear because of what happened to them personally that day, or because their lives were changed by the loss of someone that was there in New York City.
Regardless, I wanted to at least take a few moments out of my day to remember. I remember getting the phone call from a friend telling me to turn on my TV. I remember turning on the TV and seeing the towers in New York filled with smoke and constant replays of the planes crashing into the side of the towers. I remember being glued to the television that day with my son wondering how they were going to save all those people in the towers, and whether it was going to even be possible. I remember crying over strangers… Those people who were in the towers in New York that I had never met… Crying for them and their families who couldn’t reach them or call them or save them. I just couldn’t fathom the sense of overwhelming hopelessness and grief that they must be feeling at that moment… I still can’t.
And yet there’s the memories of after as well. I remember driving through the neighborhoods all over the Phoenix Valley just to feel the sense of solidarity that I had never felt in my life, and haven’t felt since. House after house, neighborhood after neighborhood, building after building… SO many people had put up the United States flag in so many forms and fashions… Flagpoles, posters, signs, in lights in their yard or on their garage or on the sidewalks. The neighborhoods glowed in red, white and blue lights and it was amazing!
Today, I haven’t seen any flags. I haven’t seen any red, white and blue lights. I haven’t seen flags on flagpoles of all shapes and sizes in people’s yards.
And for the people who lost loved ones that day…for those who lost their lives trying to save them… And for the families of those who have lost their lives trying to vindicate them… I’m sorry for that. There’s a part of me that understands because, like everyone else, I’ve lost loved ones too and no one except really close family members tends to remember every year and share in my grief. And yet there’s a small part of me that feels like this should be different.
But then maybe that’s just because it was an act of war on OUR soil instead of “over there”. But strangers or not, what happened to them that day affected me. It affected all of us. It was done to “us” as a country so if you get a chance stop what you’re doing for 60 seconds… And remember.
I’m not a big TV watcher now, and back then I didn’t watch TV at all. But today I received an e-mail that included a link to the first David Letterman show that aired after 9/11… I feel that it’s worth sharing…