It’s Never Just Another Day

 

So long as I have this blog, I will never be able to write about anything else on September 11th because it will never be just another day on the calendar to me and writing about Friday favorites, sharing recipes that involve peanut butter or talking about running just seems wrong for me.

I shared my thoughts about September 11th, 2001 last year, what I remember from that day and during the years that followed. You can read the original post here but I am going to share a good portion of that post with you this morning.

I often think about September 10, 2001 before it all happened. When life was innocent.

When I went to Roosevelt Field mall during my lunch break looking for a birthday gift for my mother since her birthday was the next day, September 11th. Happy Birthday mom!

When you didn’t really look around you in the mall, worrying about where the emergency exits were or if the man over there was suspicious.

When you didn’t think about terrorists or taking your shoes off in the airport or worry that your peanut butter would somehow count for a liquid on an airplane.

It was the year of my engagement, two months before my wedding day and just a few weeks before my bridal shower.

I remember driving to work the morning of September 11th in the gorgeous morning sunshine with the sunroof open, taking note of the bright blue sky and crisp Autumn-like air.

I remember being at my desk before 9:00 am (I was always early) and my coworker running in asking if anyone else had heard that a plane had crashed into the World Trader Center.

I remember calling my fiancé (funny to use that term now but that’s what my now ex-husband was) on his cell phone while he was driving to work and he answered shouting about what he was witnessing from the Long Island Expressway just outside of Manhattan.

My coworkers and I gathered around to listen to the radio and watch news coverage on one small television.

We were sent home for the day before 11:00 am.

I remember eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with an apple for lunch as I watched the horrific news coverage in the den at my parents house where I still lived at the time while talking to my best friend Heather on the phone since she was also sent home for the day from work down in Florida. Her uncle worked in the Pentagon but he was okay.

I remember trying to reach friends and family in the city to see that they were okay.

I think back now to the difference in technology. We didn’t have text or cameras built into our phones, the internet didn’t serve us as it does now nor did we have a thing called social media to keep us informed and connected.

I had a Startac phone with no caller id, nothing smart about it other than dialing and offering me call waiting.

I remember baking chocolate chip cookies and subbing the oil with applesauce and eating the batter raw with my cousin Amy, who was stranded at my house because the bridges and tunnels were shut down and she couldn’t get home to the city.

I remember going to get my mother a birthday cake that night from TCBY, the only store opened in the area.

I remember barely sleeping at night for weeks because of the news coverage on television all night long of people looking for their missing loved ones.

I remember being afraid to leave the house in the dark, especially in the morning before work when I would normally go to the gym, so instead, I spent my time on the treadmill in my parents’ basement where I felt safe.

I remember hearing about friends of mine who lost their parents, relatives and close friends as well as those close to me who survived.

I remember canceling my lavish honeymoon and changing the destination completely because we were afraid to fly and be too far from home not sure of what the heck would be going on in the world.

I will never forget how afraid I was to go to my aunt’s apartment in the city to celebrate Rosh Hashanah, only a week later. I was afraid to go over the Triboro bridge and afraid to get out of the car when we parked on Lexington Avenue.

I remember the smell of lower Manhattan a month after September 11th when I had no choice but to be downtown for a meeting. The burning smell which lingered on for so long was so strong still at that point and it was a reminder of what we were living through.

I recall the one year anniversary of September 11th being almost as upsetting somehow as the actual day.

One of my co-workers brought in munchkins (not to celebrate but more as an emotional eating session) where we sat for a while and lots of us cried.

As the years keep passing, I don’t forget.

On September 11, 2003, I was nine months pregnant, picking up the keys to our first house which we closed on days earlier. I recall watching the 9/11 news coverage all morning while I continued to pack before going to meet my realtor.

On September 11, 2006, I watched the news coverage as I tried to get my son ready for his first day of preschool. Which was a total disaster of a day – he cried the entire four hours of school and I cried listening to him cry as I sat in the preschool office unable to leave the building.

Three years ago today I left a part-time job in event planning to go off on my own to explore a career for myself by going back to school to further explore a new direction in health, fitness and freelance writing. It really couldn’t have been a happier time and major turning point in my life yet at the same time, I didn’t forget and will never forget.

And so yes, the weekend is here, today is my mom’s birthday and Rosh Hashanah begins Sunday night. I have food shopping to do, holiday cooking to accomplish, a cake to bake and a long run on the schedule for tomorrow.

But we can talk about all that another time.

[bctt tweet=”Never just another day #September11 #neverforget”]

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No questions today but your thoughts are always welcome 🙂