That Day In September

It was a bright and pleasant Tuesday morning, unremarkable at the outset, virtually indistinguishable from so many other pleasant, yet not quite noteworthy Tuesday mornings in so many other Septembers. At least, that's how it began. But that sameness, that sense of normalcy, was not to last long. By day's end, every American knew that it was a day unlike any other, and that we would never be quite the same again.

For seventeen minutes, we believed that a tragic accident had occurred. An airliner filled with passengers had collided with one of the World Trade Center towers. After all, we were certainly no stranger to airline crashes prior to that day. So, that's the way we processed that initial crash, based upon our common frame of reference. Nothing else came to mind, because we had never been exposed to any other possible reason for such a horrific event.

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At 9:03 am, the rose-colored glasses were ripped from our collective face, thrown to the ground, and smashed into bits. That's when a second airliner crashed into another of the World Trade Center towers. At that point, it was quite obvious that neither this nor the earlier crash was accidental, but rather, a concerted attack on the United States of America. One more airliner attack would occur, on the Pentagon in Washington, DC. A fourth attack, which was planned to hit the White House, was thwarted in a brave rebellion by the passengers of United Airlines Flight 93, which sadly brought an end to all of their lives in a field in Pennsylvania. In total, 2,996 people died in those attacks. Not just Americans, either. Citizens of many nations, people from all races, all religions, all ethnicities, all walks of life, with one things in common: None of them deserved to die. They were all just innocent men and women, minding their own business.

I was listening to the radio on the way to work that morning, when I heard the news of the first crash. When I got to work, I ran up to the lunchroom, where there is a television. I don't believe I saw the second crash, but most likely, I saw a replay of that footage a few minutes later. I remember getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. There was no way this was a coincidence.

I remember being frightened that day. I remember feeling an overwhelming sadness. I remember the rage welling up in my heart, remember wanting to find the son of a bitch who was responsible and kill him in a slow and painful way. (And I still do.)

Mouths hanging open in shock and disbelief were the norm that morning as more and more of my co-workers crowded into the lunchroom. And when the towers collapsed, we couldn't quite believe it -- and yet, there was no way we could NOT believe it, we'd seen the footage, plain as day. We were so shaken that no meaningful work was going to be accomplished that day, so were all dismissed around 1 pm. On my thirty-minute drive home, I was overcome with a thought: I was going to go home, grab some clothes, and drive to New York City to help with the rescue and recovery effort. I mean, it was only 600 miles, and it was a way to do something, rather than just simmer in my angry helplessness. Luckily though, I thought better of it. Being out of shape, I'd probably be more of a liability than a help, which in turn would take help away from those who needed it most.

I also remember stopping to get gas on the way home, not because of the act of getting gas itself, but for how every customer at the gas station treated each other. It was like we were all friends in some small town. Why was that? After seeing thousands of Americans die on television, I think we all realized how important we are to each other, even if we are strangers. Perhaps, we also realized that life can be short, and you never know when your number's up, so cherish the people you encounter in your life.

What has changed since then? I still work for the same company, still sit at the same desk. However, some things have changed. I got divorced. My son graduated high school and became an adult (legally, anyway). My dog died and I got a cat. I moved from a house to an apartment. I got a new car. I got my bachelor's degree. I went to law school for about five minutes. And yet, as life has eventually gotten back to some semblance of normalcy -- I still feel that there's something missing. Something that we held in our hearts once again, if only just for a moment... five years ago... on that day in September.