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Anniversary
Sep. 11th, 2006 07:57 pmI originally posted this in October of 2004, in relation to something completely different. It seems appropriate to share it again, now:
I lived in Alexandria, Virginia, from August 2000 to June 2002. I was attending grad school at The George Washington University, located in the heart of DC.
The morning of September 11th was a Tuesday. I didn't have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and used those days to catch up on schoolwork or other errands (grocery shopping, trips to Target, etc). On this particular Tuesday, I woke up, made coffee, checked my emails, and settled back in bed with a copy of David Copperfield, which I was reading for my 19th Century British Literature class.
I do recall that it was a beautiful day -- cloudless. It was also the first bit of autumnal weather of the season. I remember that it was cool enough to leave the windows open -- a treat, being a Floridian. I was in bed, huddled happily under blankets, drinking coffee and reading Dickens (ironically, David Copperfield is the only Dickens novel I can stand so far). Looking back, I find it amazing that I can remember how happy I was.
So when my cell phone rang, I was perplexed. No one ever called my cell phone -- I had a landline, so why bother? But I answered it, and it turned out to be Tora's mother (Tora was living in VA with me at the time, but he was still very much asleep). She was panicked, and begging with me not to go into the city. I was nonplussed -- I never went into the District when I didn't have to, because, really -- it was a pain.
And then she gave me the news. Well, she told me a bomb went off at the Pentagon -- that's what was going around at the time.
And then I turned on the TV.
I lived about nine miles from the Pentagon. That something like THAT could happen so close to where I lived... frightened me more than words can really express. I remember waking Tora up and turning on the TV in the bedroom... watching. I remember feeling numb disbelief. It's about all I could feel -- shock, disbelief, the feeling that it was all just a dream. I... couldn't fully comprehend everything at the time. I felt... sick. I remember getting up and turning on a different television, because the one in our bedroom had to be mistaken. (Not logical, no. I realize that.)
I watched people jump, holding hands. I watched the Towers fall.
The final plane was in the air -- no one knew where it was headed. A few people mentioned the State Department as a possible target -- GWU dorms were next door to the State Dept. It was only a 3 or 4 block walk to the campus. I had friends on campus that day, working in the Writing Center. What happened to that final plane was tragic, and I felt guilty for being thankful.
I remember sitting on the couch with Tora, neither of us saying a word. We had the windows open still, and the day was still beautiful -- slightly chilly, too. I remember watching the local news -- they were at the Pentagon. I remember hearing a sudden, huge boom outside, and then on TV. I stopped breathing. The news crew ducked.
It was a fighter jet -- a sonic boom. I remember feeling foolish -- I'd lived on Florida's Space Coast for years. Shuttles always make the double boom when they re-enter the atmosphere. But it struck me then how close we were.
The days that followed ... to say they were stressful is an understatement. News reports were filled with warnings for commuters taking the Metrorail system. I took the Metro to GWU -- I caught the Blue line at King Street Station and rode it straight up to Foggy Bottom. We passed Reagan Airport (eerily void of travelers, filled with Marines and National Guardsmen and German Shepherds), the Pentagon (a moment of silence on those cars for weeks afterward, whenever we rode through that station), Pentagon City, Arlington National Cemetery... (I forget the exact order of the stops these days). Every single time someone got on the train holding a strange looking package, I held my breath and looked around for escape routes.
I remember standing in Rome Hall, which had a huge, windowed stairwell. I was on the fifth floor landing, going between the English Dept. offices on the sixth floor, and the Writing Center (where I worked) on the fourth floor. I stood there with one of my fellow grad students (odd, I can't remember who now), and we looked down at the Marines and more National Guardsmen. And I remember the strangest sense of security at seeing that military presence. But then, I have a strong military presence in my family -- I am the grand-daughter of a retired Marine, the niece of a retired Green Beret, and the cousin of a current Green Beret. It made me feel better.
I... have not watched the coverage today. I remember things very clearly, and can still feel what I felt on that morning five years ago.
I lived in Alexandria, Virginia, from August 2000 to June 2002. I was attending grad school at The George Washington University, located in the heart of DC.
The morning of September 11th was a Tuesday. I didn't have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and used those days to catch up on schoolwork or other errands (grocery shopping, trips to Target, etc). On this particular Tuesday, I woke up, made coffee, checked my emails, and settled back in bed with a copy of David Copperfield, which I was reading for my 19th Century British Literature class.
I do recall that it was a beautiful day -- cloudless. It was also the first bit of autumnal weather of the season. I remember that it was cool enough to leave the windows open -- a treat, being a Floridian. I was in bed, huddled happily under blankets, drinking coffee and reading Dickens (ironically, David Copperfield is the only Dickens novel I can stand so far). Looking back, I find it amazing that I can remember how happy I was.
So when my cell phone rang, I was perplexed. No one ever called my cell phone -- I had a landline, so why bother? But I answered it, and it turned out to be Tora's mother (Tora was living in VA with me at the time, but he was still very much asleep). She was panicked, and begging with me not to go into the city. I was nonplussed -- I never went into the District when I didn't have to, because, really -- it was a pain.
And then she gave me the news. Well, she told me a bomb went off at the Pentagon -- that's what was going around at the time.
And then I turned on the TV.
I lived about nine miles from the Pentagon. That something like THAT could happen so close to where I lived... frightened me more than words can really express. I remember waking Tora up and turning on the TV in the bedroom... watching. I remember feeling numb disbelief. It's about all I could feel -- shock, disbelief, the feeling that it was all just a dream. I... couldn't fully comprehend everything at the time. I felt... sick. I remember getting up and turning on a different television, because the one in our bedroom had to be mistaken. (Not logical, no. I realize that.)
I watched people jump, holding hands. I watched the Towers fall.
The final plane was in the air -- no one knew where it was headed. A few people mentioned the State Department as a possible target -- GWU dorms were next door to the State Dept. It was only a 3 or 4 block walk to the campus. I had friends on campus that day, working in the Writing Center. What happened to that final plane was tragic, and I felt guilty for being thankful.
I remember sitting on the couch with Tora, neither of us saying a word. We had the windows open still, and the day was still beautiful -- slightly chilly, too. I remember watching the local news -- they were at the Pentagon. I remember hearing a sudden, huge boom outside, and then on TV. I stopped breathing. The news crew ducked.
It was a fighter jet -- a sonic boom. I remember feeling foolish -- I'd lived on Florida's Space Coast for years. Shuttles always make the double boom when they re-enter the atmosphere. But it struck me then how close we were.
The days that followed ... to say they were stressful is an understatement. News reports were filled with warnings for commuters taking the Metrorail system. I took the Metro to GWU -- I caught the Blue line at King Street Station and rode it straight up to Foggy Bottom. We passed Reagan Airport (eerily void of travelers, filled with Marines and National Guardsmen and German Shepherds), the Pentagon (a moment of silence on those cars for weeks afterward, whenever we rode through that station), Pentagon City, Arlington National Cemetery... (I forget the exact order of the stops these days). Every single time someone got on the train holding a strange looking package, I held my breath and looked around for escape routes.
I remember standing in Rome Hall, which had a huge, windowed stairwell. I was on the fifth floor landing, going between the English Dept. offices on the sixth floor, and the Writing Center (where I worked) on the fourth floor. I stood there with one of my fellow grad students (odd, I can't remember who now), and we looked down at the Marines and more National Guardsmen. And I remember the strangest sense of security at seeing that military presence. But then, I have a strong military presence in my family -- I am the grand-daughter of a retired Marine, the niece of a retired Green Beret, and the cousin of a current Green Beret. It made me feel better.
I... have not watched the coverage today. I remember things very clearly, and can still feel what I felt on that morning five years ago.
