I'd taken my boys to school. I had some laundry to fold; so I turned on the TV morning show for accompaniment while I did my chore. The male anchor reported that a plane had smashed into Tower 1 and that brought to mind the story my neighbors' shared about a plane crashing into the Empire State Building on the day they married.
Handsome phoned from out of town and we talked a bit about what had taken place, neither of us comprehending. After he hung up, I continued to fold and listen to the program and then, right in front of my eyes, another plane crashed.
My heart stopped. One plane might be accidental.
The news reported the second aircraft and my hand covered my mouth. My insides twisted.
Two was not.
And then the towers fell. I phoned Handsome.
All kinds of stuff began to happen. Sirens, people rushing, smoke, crying. No one knew anything. No one knew what to think.
The horror is still incomprehensible.
A year later, I visited the site. I wound my fingers into the chain length fencing and stared. Unbelievable. My thoughts were broken when I heard sobbing. Nearby stood groups of people who had come to honor those who had passed. Someone began to pray and I closed my eyes and prayed too.
I prayed for my family, my friends. I prayed for those who died. I prayed for those who lost loved ones. I prayed for our nation--one, and indivisible.