I Won't Forget

Every year, on this day,

I try to write something

I think will be poignant,

honest and help to

honor the heartache

that still lingers for so many.

As time marches on, the

memories of that awful day,

start to get hazy around the

edges. It’s not sepia toned however,

it’s still vibrantly colorful in it’s

horror and sadness.

And I know

I will never forget it.

Even when I’m a toothless old

man.

I’m sure I’ll be able recount every

detail of my 9/11 day, even in the depths of senility.

Seeing the second plane hit the tower

on TV as I ironed my pants for work, the

silence on the train as it pulled into

Union station, the pale faces in my

office, the sad hug I shared with a co-worker

whose birthday is today.

I’ll remember crouching next to

my boss’s desk in her office that

faced the Sears Tower and her telling

me that the office was closing and to

go home.  The fear in the voices

and tears on the cheeks as we watched

the tragedy unfold back in a bar in Union Station.

I remember a guy at the bar telling

me how we were now at war with some

other nation and me telling him that I hoped

to never see him on a battlefield and that this

peaceful meeting in this crowded bar

would be the only time we’d meet.

We shook hands.

I won’t forget the crowds waiting for

the trains, panicking when our train

was moved from one track to another,

and the mass rush to escape Downtown.

I’ll never forget the terrified faces of

the people rushing past me.

I will always remember the old woman,

slowly walking with a cane next to me

along the platform as people bustled around us

in abject fear, and her comment to me that

this was nothing new to her and she’d been

through it before.  I remember taking some

comfort in her dignified and calm demeanor in

the whirlwind of panic.

I remember the well dressed man, in a nice suit,

arm in a sling, crying within the crowd because

someone had bumped into his already injured shoulder

and the disdain I had for his selfish weeping. I looked

at him with such disgust as he cried about his

arm in light of the tragedy unfolding.

I remember boarding the packed train and calming those

around me as rumors of seven other planes allegedly

still in the air, telling them there were no other planes

in the sky. Not a single plane was flying, anywhere.

The nervous chatter of people not sure what to do,

how to act or what to say to each other.

When I got to my train stop, I got off and found my

mother had been on the same train, and we hugged

each other  on the platform and it was the most natural

thing in the world. I heard the passengers that saw us hug

“ooh” and “ahh”, likely hoping they would soon embrace

their loved ones.

We went home, watched buildings fall, saw lives end, all on

TV.  Everything we had become accustomed to stopped that

day. The things that seems so important,

were now terribly mundane.  I still feel the

shock and sadness of it all. It became part of who I

am and how I will forever view the world.

So when you see me, maybe sixty years from now,

when I’m in my hundreds, I’ll tell you all about it.

And I’ll make sure, even when I don’t know where

my shoes or teeth are, that I remember this day.