I was working as a para-professional in a special education preschool classroom. I was helping my sweet little J, a three-year-old with Autism, pull velcroed juice-can lids off of a felt board and maneuver them into the slot cut in the lid of a crisco can. Special ed classrooms are so resourceful!
Our kids arrived just before 9, and the first part of the morning was often the busiest, so both towers had been stuck by the time we heard anything. The principal stuck her head in the door to tell us about the tragedy unfolding at the World Trade Center, and that there were confused news reports about the Pentagon. Although I can not remember her exact words, I remember her face and the fear that gripped us all as she told us that we were under attack.
My first thought was for the children under our care. I know it might sound silly, as if someone would strategically take out a little school in Ohio, but at the time we didn't know how widespread these attacks might be. We didn't know if there was more to come- by air or something else. We didn't "lock-down" or anything like that, but there was this sense that we were responsible for more than ourselves- and since I wasn't a parent at the time, it was a new feeling for me.
My second thought was about DaddyClay. At the time we had only been dating for a little over a month. He grew up outside of DC; his family still lives there. I wanted to check to see if he had heard from his family. I also just wanted to hear his voice. But when I called his cell-phone, the call wouldn't go through. So many people were calling loved ones, the lines were overloaded. I remembered that I had the number to his apartment in Birmingham in my wallet, so I tried again. He was just getting up and ready for class when he found out what was going on. He stayed in that morning, watching coverage.
We took turns slipping across the hall to the conference room where the TV was in constant "Special Report" mode. I remember praying and crying, watching the people hopelessly jumping from the towers. I can still see snapshots in my head of the video, played over & over, of the plane colliding with one of the towers or of the first tower collapsing. If I remember correctly, there were moments of hope when they thought the second tower would stay standing. It did not.
All of us went home that day and turned on the television for more information. But there were some questions that news anchors, first responders, even the president, just couldn't answer. There still are.
When we visited NYC for our 5th anniversary,
hubby and I visited ground zero and the Tribute WTC Visitor Center. Though it had been six years since the attacks, there was still a lot of construction going on. The visitor center was a beautiful tribute- there were times when the grief of the experience made it hard to breathe, but at the end there was a gallery entitled "Voices of Promise" that offered hope. Reminded me of the good in people. Helped me find my breath again.
Today, I pray for all of those affected by this tragedy 8 years ago. That they too, can find hope. That they are surrounded by love and goodness. That, slowly, they are catching their breath.
And that we will never forget their story.
1 comment:
Great entry...I was still at GC, so my memories will forever be tied there. We sat in the hallway of the Phi Mu house and absolutely no one wanted to go into their rooms alone.
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