September 11, 2019

The evening of...

Eighteen years ago I sat on the floor in front of the TV like the unmovable creature.  Once I left the school that morning I stopped at a sandwich shop and picked up a sub.  It took me the whole afternoon to consume the entire sandwich.  I barely tasted it, and yet it was filled with jalapeno peppers.  Every five to ten minutes I switched the channels between ABC and Fox.  

I was numb.  

I was in shock. '

It was inconceivable that the tall, proud buildings that once seen as my city compass was now in a hovel of debris.  People were trapped underneath.  I didn't have hope for anyone under the rubble.  I didn't know how they could clear the metal fast enough.  

I kept the TV on the NBC till it I was ready for bed.  I turned the TV off and said a little prayer that when I woke up the next morning that it was all a bad dream and the towers would be standing like always.

I woke at six the next morning, turned the TV on and my heart sank...

the rubble was still there.  In fact it appeared the debris got higher overnight.  

It wasn't a dream. 

It was real. 

I prayed even harder for strength and courage for the survivors of the twin tower tragedy. 

I am sorry for your heartbreak.  I am sorry for your traumatic loss. 

God bless you.  May you always find courage, strength, and hope in every day.