Wordless Wednesday

Thank you KnitPicks.com!

Keeping up and moving around

This month has been a big travel month for me - Oak Island NC with the knitting girls, Boston for work, and tomorrow I leave for Charlottesville VA for the U2 concert. My parents also moved here from Maine. Craziness!

Anyway, I've been blogging over on Sparkpeople and completely neglecting this blog. So now I'm coming back over here and dropping my Sparkpeople blog. Be ready for some changes... not just knitting... now it's anything that flies out of my brain.

Remembering

I remember Brent calling me, 6-1/2 months pregnant with Kyle, telling me that a plane had crashed into one of the towers. I thought it was an awful joke or a hoax, I didn't believe him. It couldn't be real. I pulled up cnn.com and saw the pictures. It was real. Brent and I got off the phone, and Megan and I found a tv down the hall and turned it on. The second plane hit. It was real. I remember shaking, scared for Brent in Boston's Financial District. He was so far up - I think it was the 21st floor - at One Financial Center. Someone on tv said the planes were from Boston. It was real. Someone on tv said there was a bomb at the Pentagon. There were pictures, so much smoke. Deb called me to tell me to leave Boston "Take a cab voucher, don't take the T. Go home. It's not safe." It was real. Brent called again to say that they were evacuating his building and he was going to take the T home. I told him I'd come by with a cab, and we'd go home together. Then I called my parents and left a message on their answering machine. "They're evacuating us. It's scary. I love you." Just in case. I watched the first tower collapse on tv, debris everywhere, the screams of the camera crew and people in the street, I wanted to throw up. I had to get out of the city - protect my baby. The cab ride was quick. There were people in the streets, but not as many cars as I would have expected. It was only 10:30 or so. I remember the relief when I saw Brent in front of his building. Then he was in the cab and we were on our way home. I tried to call friends who worked in the city, but all the lines were busy. I didn't get to hear their voices until the 12th. The next few days we sat glued to the tv. It was so quiet. We lived along the path for flights into Logan, and for days there were no planes. Nothing seemed real, but it was real.

The fear and sadness is as real to me today as it was eight years ago. I wonder if that will ever change? Part of me wishes it would, but another part of me wants to hold onto it. I want my children to understand what happened that day so they understand how important the work is that others to do keep us safe. I want them to be vigiliant. I want them to keep them safe.