The tears surprised me. I don't cry. Not even at funerals for close kin, but for some reason, today I cried.
Yes, I know the two events are trigger points that tapped the release valve on the cumulative stress of a rough 18 months at work, a bad economy and constant car issues that have drained my savings account below my comfort level.
But it's also the anniversary of 9/11, which heightens everything. I can't go through the day without remembering the stunningly blue skies and the eerie silence that permeated the air even in St. Louis.
I was traveling that week, although not that day. I vividly remember coming out of a new business meeting and hearing my friend say very quietly, "Listen to this. I think we're under a terrorist attack." We flipped on the radio just in time to hear the shock and horror of a reporter's voice as he described the first tower coming town.
I remember getting back to the office and watching the second tower come down on a small, black and white TV in the kitchen, and I can still feel the rising panic I felt as I tried to reach a friend of mine who lived near the World Trade complex and used that subway stop to get to work (she was safe).
Later, as the day faded into an eerie night, the empty skies disoriented me more than anything else had that day. Worse of all, I had to go back to my hotel room, and I'd never been so homesick in my life. I just wanted to go home to my Little Gray Bungalow in Charlotte.
But it's also the anniversary of 9/11, which heightens everything. I can't go through the day without remembering the stunningly blue skies and the eerie silence that permeated the air even in St. Louis.
I was traveling that week, although not that day. I vividly remember coming out of a new business meeting and hearing my friend say very quietly, "Listen to this. I think we're under a terrorist attack." We flipped on the radio just in time to hear the shock and horror of a reporter's voice as he described the first tower coming town.
I remember getting back to the office and watching the second tower come down on a small, black and white TV in the kitchen, and I can still feel the rising panic I felt as I tried to reach a friend of mine who lived near the World Trade complex and used that subway stop to get to work (she was safe).
Later, as the day faded into an eerie night, the empty skies disoriented me more than anything else had that day. Worse of all, I had to go back to my hotel room, and I'd never been so homesick in my life. I just wanted to go home to my Little Gray Bungalow in Charlotte.
The flight home was the capper to a long, strange week. The sight of a camo-clad, rifle-toting, sharp-shooter sitting in the white rocking chairs at Charlotte-Douglas airport brought home just how much the world had changed in one morning.
So whatever the source of my sobs--and it's probably a mix a mix of stress, job disappointment and 9/11--today was a day for tears.
3 comments:
Yes, Keena. For me, too. Even though I wasn't a New Yorker, I am an American, and a human. I wrote a blog about this, too, at Lindsay's Romantics. You might be interested in reading it, and hopefully it will make you feel better, too. It's amazing how many people want to just forget it happened--as one lady said on the "Love Romances" loop--"I've moved on." That's about the coldest thing I've ever heard.
Cheryl
Keena, I had other triggers for tears on the 11th this month, also, but that happens every September 11th.
It is a day for tears.
I hope your job and car situations improve.
Thanks for the comments. Yeah, I lot of people find the day tough. You'd think I'd know by now what the source of my mood is each year, but it always seems to catch me by surprise.
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