I was in the sixth grade on 9/11/2001.
I went to a small private school in New Hampshire at the time – just seven or eight of us in the 5th – 8th grade class room. I honestly don’t remember what my teacher told us, I just remember feeling like the world was ending.
That same week we were scheduled to go to an outdoor education session in northern Maine. Although we had to delay our trip by a day, we did go. And as we all sat around the camp fire on the night of September 12th, I can still remember someone saying “The planes are still grounded. There’s no flights overhead.”
I stared in awe at the crystal clear sky and for the first and last time in my life I saw a sky that would only contain stars.
As I sit here, 25 years later, watching my beautiful babies ride around the yard with their little toy cars, I cannot help but think about the parents who left for work that morning not knowing it was the last time they would see their children.
Husbands and wives who said goodbye for the last time. I wonder what those exchanges were like, and how much was left unsaid that day.
Parents who didn’t get the return call they were expecting from adult children.
I’ve listened to my favorite Alan Jackson song, Where Were You, over and over today. I’ve cried, I’ve prayed, and I’ve just thought so much about the state of the world.
The world did truly stop that day.
Air travel was grounded.
Busses couldn’t run.
The trains froze in the subways and on the bridges.
A new definition of gridlock was invented with the rubble and people in the streets.
The world both was deafeningly loud with the mourning of millions of people and also deadly silent with the stillness.
It is still one of the saddest days I can say I’ve lived through.
I’ve wept today more for the families of the first responders who left their lives at that scene.
It took me a long time today to figure out why I was so focused on them, but as I drove my three-year old home, past the fire station it clicked. He squealed with his usual excitement at the fire trucks sitting proudly in the station parking lot. His little brother screamed in joy “wee-woo”!
They were screaming with laughter at the fire men milling around the yard, waiting for something tragic to occur.
And then Ollie said “They are going to rescue someone!” As an ambulance pulled away.
My sons think that firemen and police offers are the greatest men in the world. It’s already been made clear at these young ages what they want to be when they grow up.
And suddenly I realized, the first responders that were there that day were once little boys and girls too. Their mothers probably watched with the same nervous curiosity at their sweet babies admiring those who their children idolized. They also probably ran around making firetruck sounds at 5 am, pushing toy police cars all over the yard, and begging to dress up as firemen on Halloween, birthdays and random Tuesdays when they saw a red pair of pants hanging in their closets.
In the most beautiful and bizarre way, a new connection was formed in my mind to people I’ve never met, will never know, and yet somehow have the most profound feeling of empathy for.
Right now my boys don’t understand why I cried on the way home from school today. And on some level, they never will. I pray they don’t ever have to be part of that kind of world shattering event. To learn about it in school will never compare to living those days.
The world has certainly changed since September 11, 2001. Twenty-Five Years of evolution, of creation, invention, connection, and change. I don’t know if it’s all been for the good, or for the worse.
But as I sit here tonight, watching the next generation grow before my eyes, I can say that the words of Alan Jackson’s song ring more true than ever in my heart:
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us
And the greatest is love
The greatest is love. ❤️
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