Remembering 9/11

As I've browsed Facebook and friends' blogs over the last 2 days, I'm reminded to remember 9/11. To be honest, this is one of those things, along with several others in my life, that I've tucked away in a quiet and unvisited corner of my mind only to remember briefly on the anniversary of the occasion. I have to numb myself to these things because I just can't revisit the feelings involved, nor do I want to. Maybe that makes me weird, cold-hearted, or dispassionate, but that's the only way I can handle certain life-changing events.

Several friends have asked the question: Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001?

I remember sitting in the little apartment we were renting in San Diego. Ian was going through 6 weeks of training there and we decided to go as a family instead of being separated for 6 weeks. We'd had enough of being separated due to deployments and this was the beginning of his first shore duty since we'd been married.

Ian was getting ready to leave for class and I was up to see him off. I don't think Todd, who was just 2 at the time, was awake yet. Ian turned on the news, like he does most mornings, and there was Katie Couric reporting from the Today show with a shot of the first tower burning in the background. We didn't know quite yet that a plane had been hijacked and flown into the tower. I remember seeing a shot of the grounds surrounding the Pentagon and thinking the area looked very familiar, but didn't know something had happened at the Pentagon, too. I was still having a hard time sorting it all out.

Then back to the towers, and within a few minutes, we saw the 2nd airplane hit Tower 2. It was so surreal, like a scene from a movie, but it definitely was NOT a movie. The most shocking part to me was when the 2nd tower collapsed . . . and then the 1st . . . like they'd never been there at all. All I could think was, "Is this it? Is this the end of the world?". I stayed glued to the TV all day. I wanted to be back in Alabama where our families were, but we were stuck in San Diego for another 3 weeks.

One day passed . . . two days . . . then a week . . . and things seemed to get back normal, for us. I know it was anything but normal for so many people.

Ian finished his training and we headed back to Alabama for a visit before moving to Connecticut. A couple of months before the 1st anniversary of 9/11, I found out we were expecting our 2nd child. Ian has since gotten out of the Navy, we've moved back home to Alabama, and added two more kids to the mix. And, eight years later, life is normal. I don't know what I'll be doing eight years from now. Hopefully still plugging along as usual.

To borrow from another blog Pioneer Woman :

"I wonder what I’ll be doing on September 11, 2017? What about my loved ones?

I’d try to predict…but life doesn’t work that way.

A lot can happen in eight years. And I realize more every day that the only thing certain about life…is its uncertainty.

But that makes the moments of calm and peace even that much more delicious."

Absolutely.