(no subject)
The instant when I first heard the news is emblazoned in my head. It's the same for most, I suspect. It is a snapshot moment that happens once in a great while. The photos in my mind never fade, though. I won't let them. They are preserved in tribute to those who aren't around to remember. In tribute to those people who stood in a blazing inferno and were forced to make a choice, an intolerable choice. It is unacceptable, having to choose the method of your own death. But they had to make that choice - and therefore, I will remember them, and the others that did not live through that day. It is the very least I can do.
I remember the gaping horror when we realized just how bad it was. I remember leaving work and driving home, chanting prayers and pleas in my head, over and over and over. And I remember looking over from the first available vantage point - and seeing only one tower still standing.
I remember the horror and fear I felt until I knew my brother was safe, and had walked out of the city like so many thousands of others.
I remember the looks on the faces of the survivors as the disembarked, wet and ash-covered, from the ferry boats that helped them escape the city. I remember the almost deafening silence that prevailed while driving these poor people home.
I remember sitting in front of the television every night for three weeks, desperate for miracles. I remember deliberately turning away when it became apparent that there weren't going to be any. And I remember looking across Raritan Bay at the smoking ruins for a month.
I remember. I WILL NOT FORGET.
I remember the gaping horror when we realized just how bad it was. I remember leaving work and driving home, chanting prayers and pleas in my head, over and over and over. And I remember looking over from the first available vantage point - and seeing only one tower still standing.
I remember the horror and fear I felt until I knew my brother was safe, and had walked out of the city like so many thousands of others.
I remember the looks on the faces of the survivors as the disembarked, wet and ash-covered, from the ferry boats that helped them escape the city. I remember the almost deafening silence that prevailed while driving these poor people home.
I remember sitting in front of the television every night for three weeks, desperate for miracles. I remember deliberately turning away when it became apparent that there weren't going to be any. And I remember looking across Raritan Bay at the smoking ruins for a month.
I remember. I WILL NOT FORGET.