It’s never going to be just another ordinary day in America. And every year after the first shocking day the threats loom greater.
I was a librarian then (my 5th and final career). One of 4 others as a telephone reference team. I answered a frenetic call from a coworker I thought was calling with some made-up story throwing smoke to hide being late. It wasn’t made up.
We were sent home. At the time I worked in downtown Charlotte, NC a couple of blocks from the Bank of America world hq building so the entire area was evacuated. I’d much rather have stayed at work. Going home I was alone with my thoughts and the television, watching a horror unfold in a disconnected way.
Too stunned to be afraid. I answered the phone, my son’s small voice, “Mom?” His classes had been cancelled, we did not know what to say. Incomprehensible. “America’s going to recover, we may have been knocked down but we won’t stay down.”
Any words sounded terrible and hollow in the face of what was happening, most of which we would not even know the extent of for days. Weeks.
And now 13 years later. We are watching. And praying.
Pss. 16, 18, 23