Remembering...

Tonight as the kids and I were taking a walk around the neighborhood, we noticed two planes flying next to each other, closer than we would normally see. We wondered out loud why they would be so close. B thought maybe they were writing the alphabet in the sky. N suggested they were just heading to the same place. O just pointed and said "Look! Two planes! Two!" over, and over, and over again.

A few minutes later, as we arrived back at our house, we noticed two more planes flying right next to each other. This time, I could see that one was the size of a commercial airliner, with a smaller plane flying just off to its side.

It occurred to me then that the larger plane (which, as someone pointed out on facebook, could have also been Air Force One) was likely being escorted into National Airport--or maybe another local airport-- because tomorrow is Sept 11th.

Not that I had forgotten what tomorrow was, or that I hadn't thought about it. Probably like most of you, even eleven years later, I can't not think about it. I just hadn't thought about it in terms of increased security, or threat levels, or escorted airliners.

These, of course, are the things that remain with us from that day. They are necessary things. Beneficial things. Sad things. And yet, none of these are what I think about most when I think of September 11th, 2001.

I think of what a beautiful morning it was, without a cloud in the sky, as I headed out to work. I think of being fresh out of grad school, and arriving at my new job as a foster care social worker as the second plane hit the Twin Towers. I think of sitting in a meeting, hearing that the Pentagon had been hit, and then hearing the woman running the meeting say, "Wow, that's terrible. OK, now, let's get back to our agenda".

I remember being grateful for the mutiny that eventually took place in that meeting room as someone informed her that our country was under attack, and maybe this could wait for another day.

I remember a TV in our office being turned on, and hearing that a fourth plane had crashed in Pennsylvania.

I remember going into the bathroom, uncertain if I was going to cry or throw up.

Instead, I just prayed.

I remember coming home to the house we had moved into two weeks earlier. Calling Jimmy. Calling my siblings. Calling my mother in law in Ireland to say that we were fine.

I remember watching the news, and crying.

And yet not being able to turn it off.

I remember realizing how odd it was that the skies above our home--where several planes an hour could normally be seen--were empty. And silent.

For days.

I remember thinking that our future plans for children needed to be revisited. How could we justify bringing a child into a world where people could do something so evil?

I remember being grateful for the leadership of our President and lawmakers, as a few days later, they stood in front of the Capital--together-- and sang God Bless America.

I should say that I didn't actually lose anyone that day, but somehow, that doesn't feel accurate.

We lost 2819 people that day.

I remember that.

Sometimes, I remember it this way:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvj6zdWLUuk


Other times, I remember it this way:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2yI6-1e9pKw

And sometimes, it's like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1v1esiP0w6c&feature=related

But mostly, I remember as I watch my children play.

And hear them laugh.

And listen to their explanations of why two planes could possibly be flying so close to each other.

Wishing it really was because they were just heading in the same direction.

Remembering that it's not.