Some More Words for Today

It almost feels selfish not to say something about what day it is today. Here we are on the sixth anniversary of 9/11 and no one really seems to know what to do about today. Should we mourn as a country, should we move on, what should we do.

Well, damned if I know that answer to that, but I don't think it should ever just go back to being an ordinary day.

The best thing that I can do on 9/11 is to reflect on what was going on in my life and how the events of that day affected me and to feel compassion for the multitude of people who were affected in the worst ways possible. I didn't lose any loved ones to 9/11 but I'm very sorry for the people who did. Such a terrible act of hatred. There's really no way to make any sense out of it that I can see and I just hope that all of those souls and all of their families are finding some kind of peace with the passage of time.

What I remember about that day, in my own very insignificant way is as follows:

I had been living at my parents' house for the millionth and hopefully last time for about 6 months. I sought solace there after a rather heated and violent ending to a dead-end relationship. I had started my prerequisite courses for my nursing degree and life was fairly easy. I was working as a CNA at Littlebrook Nursing Home in Califon-a lovely small facility in the rolling hills of New Jersey, where Hunterdon, Morris, and Warren counties meet.

Rob and I had just met a few weeks prior to this date. We had been emailing and talking on the phone for a little while before we met. I was absolutely head over heels in love with him and trying to figure out how to A) make him aware that I WAS THE ONE, and B) not freak him out with my manic, almost stalker-like habits regarding falling in love. My stomach was in a constant state of semi-nauseousness, I couldn't sleep, I was giddy, I was a little on the manic side-all positive symptoms of me falling in love.

I literally could've talked to him on the phone 24 hours a day if he was game for this. I absolutely couldn't get enough of him. Life was beautiful because I had found an amazing person to pour romantic love towards. He wasn't scared of the idea of dating a single mom and he was very interested in me as a person.

Beautiful.

That Tuesday I dropped Sadie off at school and went for my usual cruise. Let it be known that I am very fond of long drives, cruising, getting lost and then finding my way back home. So this was what I was doing, although there was no getting lost even if I tried. And I did. Mostly I would listen to music or Howard Stern. That morning I must have been listening to music because I didn't hear the news on the radio. Most likely I was listening to Smashing Pumpkins. It would just fit the picture.

I stopped at the Walmart in Clinton for something and I remember thinking it was kind of strange to see a group of about five or six managers kind of huddled around, hearing one say "I don't think it was random." There was a gravity to his voice, when mixed with these words just seemed quite dark to me. The impression was fleeting, so I paid and left.

When I got home, my brother Jon was awake, on the phone, and the TV was on. Considering the fact that he was awake before noon, I became a little bit concerned. My best friend at the time, Tamara, was on the phone and giving him the frightening news that something really awful was happening in New York, in real time.

At that point the first tower had been struck and no one really knew what in the world was happening. My brother and I retreated to the deck out back momentarily. The sky was clear, the weather perfect. When we came back inside, the second tower had just been struck. It was quite obvious that this was intentional. It seemed like minute by minute some new and awful thing was happening. The Pentagon, the plane crashing in Pennsylvania.

I called Sadie's school and was told that they really didn't have any specific disaster plan. The secretary told me if I would like to pick her up that would be fine. Darn tootin' I'd like to pick her up. It's the fucking end of the world, thank you.

I tried to call my mom, I tried to call my dad, I tried to call Rob. All circuits busy. For a LONG time. Just my luck, I meet the guy of my dreams and it's the end of the goddamn world. If you know my abysmal history with relationships you'll get the humor in that.

Thank you God, for not making it really be the end of the world. For me though, on that day, it truly felt like it could've been. I've never been so frightened by anything in my life, at least not in a global sense. Over the next couple of days not a plane was to be seen in the sky. Everyone I knew or knew of made it out of the city and back home unscathed. The little country airport by my parents' house let no planes into the sky for quite a while. The air was simply inhabited by the birds and insects while everyone tried to make sense of it all.

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Some pics for your enjoyment:

At work, looking cute, with a really nice shirt (I love a man who wears good shirts)

Pleased as Punch

My Girls

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Do I always have to hear that song "How to Save a Life" by the Fray when it is totally inconvenient to just break down and cry? How long is this going to go on for? I mean, can I please just go in to Staples and buy my things without hearing this song and having to walk around really, really slow, and try not to cry (which is impossible) and not even be able to concentrate on what I'm supposed to by, much less where these things are located while I can't even see with the tears in my eyes, lump in my throat, and my new friend named Nausea?

Is that a run-on sentence or an obnoxiously long rhetorical question?