(no subject)
It's the little things I remember.
The cloudless, bright blue sky; the sun brightly shining, making that September morning feel like it was still summer; the phone suddenly ringing in Mrs. Abraham's classroom, her only telling us that all the airports had been shut down. Getting into Mom's van at the end of the school day, wondering what was going on; Dad being home from work before I was home from school - an odd occurance for a Tuesday; Watching footage replay multiple times over, at different angles and different speeds on the big-screen television in our family room; Being unable to sleep that night, staying up with my parents and watching news of the aftermath.
And the feelings of numbness, fear and confusion that lasted for weeks.
I can't believe it's been ten whole years since that Tuesday in September.
The cloudless, bright blue sky; the sun brightly shining, making that September morning feel like it was still summer; the phone suddenly ringing in Mrs. Abraham's classroom, her only telling us that all the airports had been shut down. Getting into Mom's van at the end of the school day, wondering what was going on; Dad being home from work before I was home from school - an odd occurance for a Tuesday; Watching footage replay multiple times over, at different angles and different speeds on the big-screen television in our family room; Being unable to sleep that night, staying up with my parents and watching news of the aftermath.
And the feelings of numbness, fear and confusion that lasted for weeks.
I can't believe it's been ten whole years since that Tuesday in September.