9/11

Today is the 6th anniversary of the 9/11/01 attacks. I can't believe it's been six years.

I love New York. I go whenever possible. I have a gut-wrenching sadness when we fly over Manhattan and the twin towers are gone.

On that terrible morning, I was serving on a golf committee so I watched the devastation on the tiny television in the ladies locker room. We didn't realize the implications when the first plane hit so we went out on the course. Thanks to cell phones, we started to receive updates about what was happening to our country.

Once I got home, I fielded numerous calls from friends and relatives wanting to make sure the husband wasn't in NY or on a plane. (Those were the days when he traveled to NY regularly.) Then, I tried to track down my numerous friends who live or work in Manhattan. The phone lines were all down and cell phones weren't working. One of my friends was in one of the World Trade Center buildings, not the towers. He witnessed people jumping to their deaths. He saw the collapse of both towers. It was at least two years before he could talk about it.

Later on that dreadful day, I sat with girlfriends and watched the coverage. Trying to understand ... trying to cope ...

I left every television in my home on for at least 5 days. 24/7.

Once they resumed air travel, the husband and I got on a plane headed to Houston. I sat on the plane, reading a newspaper article about terrorist cells. They had just discovered a huge one in Houston. I stood up and took inventory of passengers. (Yes, I was profiling.) I watched everyone who headed for the lavatories or moved toward the front of the cabin. I made notes. Big Daddy was appalled. He kept tugging at me to sit down but it didn't work.

Life is back to normal but those threats are still looming. Today, I will wallow in the memories.