I had gone to work before 6 a.m. I walked from work to an early morning class on Northern Arizona University's campus in Flagstaff, Arizona. I walked in and noticed the hallways were crowded. Some people were crying. Others looked shocked, white, silent. The TVs were on. I asked what was going on. "You haven't heard?", no one in particular said in an echoey tone. I looked at the TV...goosebumps...chills...fear...Tim.I called Tim - he was still in bed. "Turn on the TV." He did. Silence. Eyes watering. I couldn't believe it. Then, the second plane collided. The images. The smoke. The people running, crying, wailing, wondering.
I walked into my philosophy class. The professor turned off the TV. He said we'd go on with class as usual. He lectured on Aristotle or Socrates - something that I couldn't pay attention to, something I knew I wouldn't remember. Something about it felt wrong - us sitting there, listening to the Ph.D. orate about things that didn't matter.
After class. Headed to our little apartment in married housing. Hugged Tim. Called family. Tried to think about if we knew anyone in NY.
Stories began to circulate. Todd Beamer. Let's roll. Sacrifice. Pregnant wives and little children and husbands left behind.
I'll never forget. The smoke. The tightness. The courage.
(Photo by: wallyg)
1 comment:
I remember doing to dishes - 8 months pregnant with Jacob, Hannah not quite 2.5. And I remember feeling horrified as I sat there watching the second plane hit the building on live TV. I cried all day, broke out in hives from the anxiety, had nightmares. It seemed weird to think all of that was happing but five hours away - so close.
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