That morning at home began much like the delirious days preceding it: a 7:30am awkward and anxious tandem nursing, followed by double baby burping and dual diapering. As a first-time mom, I was adrift in the new-parent paranoia and hyper analysis of every hiccup and twitch — and yet simultaneously entranced by each finger movement and chest-inflating breath, times two. My treks up and down the stairs were strictly limited by doctor mandate to once or twice a day.After helping tend to the morning’s first baby maintenance session, my husband, Scott, was downstairs.
An intentional impact. Before that day, unimaginable.
Minutes later, as we watched, the second plane, looking nothing like a Cessna, plowed headlong into the South Tower. From upstairs I screamed, “Honey! Someone needs to call the air traffic controllers in NYC! Somehow they’re misdirecting planes into the buildings…another one just hit! Another one just hit!”
Those heartbreaking visuals and so many others from those days are seared forever in our minds.The disturbingly twinkly confetti-like papers afloat around the plane-pierced structures. The police and fire department vehicles with their sirens blaring and their heroes aboard, racing full-speed toward an area that survival instincts would reflexively demand one avoid. Stunned people in business suits running out of buildings. Onlookers screaming, hiding their eyes, pointing, praying, crying. Victims waving — and then beyond comprehension, actually leaping — from the facades of the burning buildings.
A personal video from the POV of being pulled into a coffee shop to escape the billowing cloud of collapse, with the audio of “thank you, thank you, thank you.” Al Qaeda training camp videos with hooded practitioners navigating overhead monkey bars. The iconic antenna atop WTC1 descending slowly into an expanding column of dust.
Forever linked to our family’s personal history, Scott and I pay rapt attention annually to the documentaries, the interviews, the tributes. Each September, our emotions careen from giddy twin birthday celebrations on the 5th, to grave solemnity on the 11th. Then, we move on. Always remembering. Forever united, a family…micro and macro.
We will always remember the events of 9-11...and will post this piece annually on that day.