It was 8:50am and I was running around my office in my typical haphazard fashion. Stressed about someone not getting a report in on time or some other increasingly mundane task that would ultimately mean very little. The plant manager peeked in and asked me to come to the conference room down the hall. Something about a plane hitting a building in New York. I sauntered down the hallway to a growing crowd of co-workers who were crouched around our t.v. set taking in every word the reporters could get out.
As we all sit there in mass confusion, we see the second plane hit the towers. The audible gasp is quickly shrouded in silence all around. Is this really happening? We are flipping back and forth between all news outlets for more information. No one seems to know anything.
I walk back to my office to shoot off some emails to my family, when I hear the words that will never erase from my mind. "A plane just hit the Pentagon." Confusion moves to terror as I start to panic about the safety of my little brother, who is in school in Washington D.C. The phone calls to him go unanswered. The emails aren't returned. My father hears from me more times that morning, than I can reasonably count. That entire day is spent in suspended disbelief that this could not only be one of the worst days in our country's history, but in my family's lives also.
We finally hear from my brother late that afternoon and he's fine, but I will never breathe a bigger sigh of relief than I did that day. I felt overwhelming joy that he was ok and yet immense sadness for the many friends and families of those who lost their loved ones that day.
And so today, I take a moment to reflect on those who lost their lives that day. The innocent souls on the planes and in the buildings. The brave emergency responders who didn't think twice about running into danger to help others. And the friends and families of those who lost their lives. I will never forget you.
Now That’s Love by Ree
1 day ago