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When I came to work on 9/11/01 and my co-worker told me about the Twin Towers, I thought it was a joke.
Then I went with her, as she sobbed, to get her daughter out of daycare in a Federal Building. All the parents were getting their children out.
I remember that some people left work early. I remember that for the rest of the week, we talked about it and were still in shock.
I remember that I got a lot of work done that day because I pushed it out of my mind.
But it couldn't really have happened, could it?
I tried to call my grandfather in the Bronx but couldn't get through. I tried to call my friends on Manhattan but couldn't get through.
I called my father. I called my mom for the first time in over a year. She cried when she heard it was me.
I remember feeling helpless that I couldn't do anything. I hadn't started studying acupuncture yet so I couldn't do anything. I wanted to help in a tangible way. Later that month, I donated clothes to this guy who went down to NY with a couple of truckloads of donations. At least I did something.
I talked to my brother again that night. I was cutting my hair because - well, I didn't know why. I had to go get it fixed the next day because I just cut and cut without thinking.
When Steve and I went to NYC and I saw the construction cranes, it was really real. They weren't there any more. People were gone. Until we drove down the West Side Highway, it could all have been a nightmare or some media joke, right?
The streets of NY were like a ghost town. The memorial in Union Square was amazing, dizzying with emotions. I'd never seen New Yorkers be so kind to one another before.
I remember praying for peace and for all the help that we could give to the people working at ground zero and for the families that lost people they loved. I remember that at some point, I stopped praying and I'm sorry I did.
I don't read the real news first anymore. I can't bring myself to do it. I read the arts section and the "soft" stuff first. I remember the alarm clock depressed me so much because I'd wake up to more bad news every morning. I have a new alarm clock now that sounds like tinker-bell is waking me up. I don't wake up depressed anymore.
Coping, dealing, changing.
Remembering.
Then I went with her, as she sobbed, to get her daughter out of daycare in a Federal Building. All the parents were getting their children out.
I remember that some people left work early. I remember that for the rest of the week, we talked about it and were still in shock.
I remember that I got a lot of work done that day because I pushed it out of my mind.
But it couldn't really have happened, could it?
I tried to call my grandfather in the Bronx but couldn't get through. I tried to call my friends on Manhattan but couldn't get through.
I called my father. I called my mom for the first time in over a year. She cried when she heard it was me.
I remember feeling helpless that I couldn't do anything. I hadn't started studying acupuncture yet so I couldn't do anything. I wanted to help in a tangible way. Later that month, I donated clothes to this guy who went down to NY with a couple of truckloads of donations. At least I did something.
I talked to my brother again that night. I was cutting my hair because - well, I didn't know why. I had to go get it fixed the next day because I just cut and cut without thinking.
When Steve and I went to NYC and I saw the construction cranes, it was really real. They weren't there any more. People were gone. Until we drove down the West Side Highway, it could all have been a nightmare or some media joke, right?
The streets of NY were like a ghost town. The memorial in Union Square was amazing, dizzying with emotions. I'd never seen New Yorkers be so kind to one another before.
I remember praying for peace and for all the help that we could give to the people working at ground zero and for the families that lost people they loved. I remember that at some point, I stopped praying and I'm sorry I did.
I don't read the real news first anymore. I can't bring myself to do it. I read the arts section and the "soft" stuff first. I remember the alarm clock depressed me so much because I'd wake up to more bad news every morning. I have a new alarm clock now that sounds like tinker-bell is waking me up. I don't wake up depressed anymore.
Coping, dealing, changing.
Remembering.