Reflecting on September 11, 2001

When I woke up on September 11, 2001, I headed straight to the living room and turned on the TV. I never watch TV before work and I don't remember why I felt like I should have turned it on that morning. The first plane had already crashed into one of the towers. I called my mom (The One Who Makes Sense of the World) to ask what was going on and together we watched the second plane crash into the other tower. I asked her, "Is this real?" I went to work and shortly after I arrived, an e-mail was sent out sending us all back home again. The ride home on the train was eerily silent. No one talked. No one moved. Everyone gazed out the window and up into the sky. Every plane tracked until it was out of sight. The shock was nothing like they felt in the Northeast, but it was a shock nonetheless. NPR was kept on for days until we couldn't stand it anymore. News was addictive and unsatisfying. American flags seemed suddenly important. Times of worship were filled with desperate longing.