Writer's Block: 9/11
I was 14, it was the first week or two of high school, and I was in my History class when the principal made the announcement. I can't remember whether it was when the first or second plane hit the WTC, but I do remember that I blanked out mentally for a bit.
I remember my heart pounding like crazy, and then my brain went into overdrive trying to remember where the hell my dad was, because I both 1.) couldn't remember where in NYC he worked, and 2.) couldn't remember if he was supposed to go to the WTC for a meeting either that week or the week after. I was also panicking inside because I knew my uncle worked in Lower Manhattan, and that got me to thinking about my aunt and cousins and...god, my mind was a mess.
And all of that must've taken place within a few minutes. I remember looking at the rest of the class from my seat, since I was in the back corner, and thinking that we all looked confused. I remember whisperings from the other side of the room saying that one classmate's dad worked in the WTC. I can't recall if she was escorted from this class or the next period. (I also remember that my History teacher was kind of a bitch in restoring order and having us move on with the lesson.)
I do remember next period though. It was French class, and once the announcement came that the Towers fell, I could see Madame had to turn away from the class to cry a bit. (She's such a dear heart. I think this moment was what endeared me to her for the rest of high school.) Her speech was something about all the lives that were just lost that day...and I remember blanking out again, and then praying that my dad and uncle were ok.
The rest of the school day I was in a daze, but I was reassuring myself that if something happened, Mom would call the school. The bus ride home my heart was having palpitations.
I flew through the front door...and practically collapsed when I saw my Dad just sitting on the couch drinking coffee.
The lazy bum stayed home from work that day. ::shakes head::
After seeing he was there, I had to run upstairs to cry.
(My uncle, luckily, was perfectly fine too. He was just blocks away walking to work when it started, and he was part of the crowd that had to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge during the evacuation out of the city.)
So...yeah. That's the day when I started praying again.