Remembering 9/11

January 28, 1986 at 11:39 a.m.EST. I was sitting on my sofa, having pretended to have a upset tummy and staying home from school, so I could watch Christa McAuliffe become the first teacher in space. When the Challenger disintegrated, my mother and I stared at the screen in slack jawed disbelief. It was the most horrific day in my young life.

Fast forward 15 years to the gloriously sunny and perfectly lovely Tuesday morning of September 11th 2001. Just about ready to walk out the door for work, I turned to say good bye to my husband when my phone rang.

"Are you watching TV?" My Mom's shaky, scared voice trembled over the phone line.

I rolled my eyes in irritation at being stopped when I was just about to leave for work. "Mom, I don't watch TV in the morning you know that. I've got to go, I'll be late for work."

Shakily,"Just turn it on, now." Louder,"Just go, go turn it on now."

My stomach turned a bit at the unfamiliar sound of anxiety, maybe even fear I heard in her voice, so I walked to the TV and turned it on to a national news station and my husband came in to see what was going on.

Once more, with my Mom and now my husband by my side, I watched as unspeakable horror unfurled before my eyes in a technicolor nightmare of uncertainty, fear and death.

I watched for an hour or so, watched as a second plane flew into the south tower and it became clear my country was under attack. I mechanically got in my car and went to the office, I still don't remember that drive. There were only a few of us there that day and after half an hour we were sent home.

I stopped by a beer store and bought some cold ones on the way home, walked up my stairs, was greeted enthusiastically by my sweet dog who I was jealous of for having no idea what was going on, and sat down. I never even put the beer in the fridge, at least not for a couple of hours. I just turned the TV on and like millions and millions of people across the world watched the coverage of what only an hour or so before had been buildings and planes full of people, mostly Americans, now dead.

I wish I could say I drank myself into a stupor and don't remember much from that day, but sweet release did not come by can that day. Nor by sleep for weeks. I remember everything. Crystal.

I remember my insane Russian neighbor who worked with my husband(who did in fact work all day that day)scream at the top of his lungs, drunkenly (Vodka and Pickles),"WAR YOU BITCHES THIS IS WAR!!!!!"

I remember my dog licking salty tears off my face.

I remember watching as people were jumping out of the towers and thinking to myself,"MY GOD what must it be like in there??? Someone please help them, HELP THEM HELP THEM!!!!!!! Make it stop!!!!"

I remember thinking about my uncle, who worked there, was he safe?

I remember thinking about Windows on the World and the nice waiter we had when we ate there, was he OK?

I remember at one point watching the injured people walk about covered in ghostly dust and having goosebumps break out all over my body.

I remember the eerie silence of the skies that night(and of the days to follow) as planes sat quiet on tarmacs across the world.

I remember the uncertainty of the media and the world when we didn't know if it was over or only beginning.

I remember the fear in the eyes of the newscasters. Something I'd never seen before.

I remember thinking at some point later in the day of the families of those who were slaughtered that day.

I remember trying to put myself in the shoes of those people on those planes, long before we heard of Todd Beamer's,"Let's Roll." And thinking what would I have done?

I remember smoking a cigarette on my front patio and one of the neighbors asking my why I was crying. And me, just shaking my head, words frozen on my tongue like the images of the terrors of that day will be forever frozen in my mind.

I remember footage of Palestinians celebrating in the streets. One in particular, an older, "grandmotherly" type who was shrilly trilling her tongue and throwing candy in the air with a shit eating grin on her face.

I remember the hate, the black, painful, almost all consuming hatred I felt as news rolled in of those who were responsible for this wholesale slaughter of innocents.

I remember being sick a couple of times.

I remember it all.

Fast forward 7 years.

As I write this my hand shakes a little, my stomach has those greasy little butterflies flitting about and I can feel some of what I felt that day. Time has passed and the utter rage, fear, hatred, pain, sadness, grief, pathos, pity, horror and gut wrenching pang that seethed inside me has lessened a bit, but it's still there.

I have not forgotten, nor will I ever.

I have not forgotten the people behind that day and the mission we are now on. Nor those who have died to protect us and defend us.

The future is certain only in that it exists, what we make of it and how we fight this foe is uncertain. We can only be human and do the best we can.

I have not forgotten you, victims of 9/11:
Shanksville
New York
Washington
The world.

Never forget.