September 11, 2008

7 years

As I sat here at my computer and looked up at the clock and saw the time, 8:11am (CT), I froze. I instantly remembered exactly where I was and what I was doing seven years ago today. I turned to the TV and flipped it on. MSNBC is re-playing the original broadcast from the Today show that I sat and watched 7 years ago today, my new 3-month old baby cradled in my arms. I dreaded whether I should get in my car and pick up my four-year-old from pre-school as I desperately tried to reach my husband who was in class, using his work beeper. And the tears have started to stream again — because I know what comes next in this broadcast. I know that if I continue to watch, I will see the towers fall. I gasp and cover my face this morning as I remember that soon I will see trapped people jumping to their death, rather than be taken by the smoke and flames. Do I dare to continue reliving 9/11 this morning, flooding my brain with the painful images of that day — images burned into my brain for all time yet softened by the slipping years?

My brain speeds forward, through all the events of that day, and all that has happened as a result in the past seven years. I remember our lip-biting president sitting in a Florida classroom as he is told, looking terrified and not at all in control. And the years of war to come — the lies, the lives lost, the politics of it all. The eerily silent skies that would linger for days. My baby is seven years old now, and her future is still uncertain — still because of all that happened seven years ago today. I don't want to get into all the politics today, I just want to remember and feel and grieve again. My prayers are the living and the dead today. Any more words fail me today.

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