9/11 is my aunt & uncle’s wedding anniversary…
… and I’ve promised myself I would try to think of their wedded bliss for the bulk of the day. Since today is pretty much over and done, I think I’m allowed to surrender my thoughts to the day that none of us can forget.
I admit that the details are a bit fuzzy, but I’ll share whatever I can remember in hopes that it’ll strike up more accurate memories. Please forgive my, er, *interesting* logic.
It was my second week of college, and I was actually beginning to settle into my living arrangements. Over the summer, I had made the life-changing decision to move away from home. Sure, home would be only twenty minutes away, but it was a big deal for me because I had always imagined my college years with the support of my family surrounding me – sometimes all of us in the same room, which you’d think I’d find overwhelming, but no, at the time I found it comforting.
Upon meeting my support system at the dorms, I learned very quickly that my RA was going to keep the tension low on our floor. He was one of *those* people. Intelligent. Funny. Charming. The point is, with him at the helm, I was at ease. Worst possible scenario: I could someday be the butt of one of his jokes, which I’m sure would have been mortifying for all of five minutes. In other words, in my mind, there was no worst possible scenario.
I woke up early that Tuesday morning because I had made it a personal goal to get into the habit of eating breakfast, the meal I’d always managed to skip throughout high school. Patting myself on the back for waking up on time, I exited my dorm room, only to find my perfectly charming RA pacing the hall. He looked lost, befuddled,… out of his freakin’ mind. All he could muster were the fragmented questions, “Have you seen? Have you heard?” From what I can remember, I responded, “Uh, no. Look, I’m running late. Are you gonna be okay?” As I walked away, I heard him say something about terror, and I was sure he was simply making a joke that wasn’t very funny. I laughed, like I’d hurt his feelings if I didn’t.
I scurried down the stairs and shook my head, thinking, “Man, he needs to get some sleep. Poor guy.” There weren’t many folks out and about yet, but I figured it was normal for that time of day. Within two minutes, I discovered how wrong I was… and why my RA had been acting strange. The TVs in the caf had CNN on as usual. However, the dead silence in the building full of students, faculty, etc. was not something I had encountered or would ever encounter again.
I saw the news that day – over and over and over again – and none of it truly registered in my brain until late that night as I lay in bed. Most classes had been canceled for the day, some for the week. I’m definitely a feeler, so I spent most of my free time in the chapel that week. Crying. Praying. Crying again. What else could I do?
