Let it Rest
I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was just before 9 a.m. and I was standing in the kitchen, making my usual egg white omelet when I heard a plane fly over head. It was so close I could hear the engines roar. This would be normal if you lived near an airport. But I didn’t. I lived at 26th and 6th right in the middle of Manhattan. I thought, “wow that’s close!” And then, mischievously, “what if it crashed landed right on Sixth Avenue?”
I was running late so I skipped my normal routine of watching the Today show while eating breakfast. I instead ate my omelet as I dressed for work. (If only I had turned on the T.V.) I rushed to the subway without once thinking of the plane’s possible demise into the middle New York City’s morning rush hour.
As I rode the elevator up to the 19th floor of my Midtown office building, I overheard someone say that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I wondered what the odds were of two small Cessnas crashing into the side of a building. How strange. I decided to walk by the lunch room and see if there was mention of it on the news. What followed is history.
Amazing how well we remember what we were doing and where we were when these moments in history happen. I remember where I was when I heard of Princess Diana’s death. The Rodney King riots. The San Francisco quake of ’89. My mother’s death. Whether personal or public, these moments become a part of us, forever etched into our memories. And so, on this day, seven years later, I remember. Personally, I lost a friend and as a nation, we lost our innocence. We found we are no longer safe from outside forces whether they be terrorists from outside our borders, or inside. My hope is that one day, sooner rather than later, we find those responsible. For then might we rest.