On this day

...I always think of my mother.

Nineteen years later, I still cry when I think of that day. The losses we suffered, whether we knew someone that perished or not, come roaring back.

I think about how the day unfolded—at work. I was at my desk and had a moment to check some news. I went to CNN’s website and saw the smoke emanating from the North Tower while the news anchor was calmly speaking about what might have happened.

I told my supervisor about the plane that crashed into the tower. He looked at me like I was nuts. I went back to my desk. In the time I took from going to his office and returning to mine, a plane rammed into the South Tower. That’s when I knew we were under attack.

All work stopped. We had a television in our conference room, but no antenna, which was frustrating our efforts to get more news. I went back to my office and the CNN website and continued to watch.

Within an hour? 30 minutes? It's one of those days where you lose all track of time, but our regional supervisor contacted our office and told us to bug out. The Hubs and I were carpooling back then and I knew he wouldn't be able to get to me right away, but I'm the designated staff member that ensures everyone else has vacated the premises. By the time he picked me up, the entire building was vacant. Driving through downtown Little Rock reminded me of how things were in mid-March when the pandemic ramped up—a ghost town.

Hubs and I found a Mexican restaurant open closer to home and we chose a booth where we could watch the coverage of the nightmare. Then the towers fell. I cried the entire time. We went home. I sat in front of the TV and the tears kept falling.

All three of our boys were at school while this was happening. I was camped out downstairs on the couch. Hubs couldn’t watch it any longer and did something else; I can’t remember what. Just before my oldest came home, I had an epiphany moment—Mom was in heaven and she was on the Welcome Wagon committee for all of the souls that entered the heavenly gates that day.

I actually had a chuckle over it.

When my sister and I were kids, we lived all over the place. My father was a Marine, and while he retired when I was 4, his career took him all over the map. My mother became a big fan of Welcome Wagon. With every move, she contacted them and we reaped the benefits.  

When Daddy was still in the Service, he was a squadron leader. Mom was the Welcome Wagon committee of one for the squadron, with a little Mother Hen thrown in. 

She passed away two weeks after my birthday in 2001, just 5 months before 9/11. 

May we never forget this day. While some would prefer to never be reminded, I believe we have to remember.