Half a Lifetime Ago

 

It’s been twenty-two years since the towers fell and life began to be marked before and after 9/11.

            I was just twenty-three when it happened, which means it’s been a literal half a lifetime ago for me.

            For those of you who were old enough to remember (which I’m guessing is probably most of you who read here), this day is a day of remembrance, whether or not you are purposeful about it. You remember where you were when you heard. You remember how you spent the rest of your day. You remember the days after, when this country found a resurgence of kindness and compassion.

            We say the memories of the day because we need to continue committing them to memory. Events like this one mark and shape us, even if we didn’t personally know anyone who perished that day.

            I know I’ve shared my own perspective on the story here before, but I, too, need to say the memories again. I was working in the Financial Aid Office at Indiana Wesleyan, and we were in the middle of a division meeting that morning. One of the Admissions Counselors told us the World Trade Center had been hit, and I didn’t even know what or where it was. But I could tell by the shaken reactions of those around me that it was serious. By the time I returned to my office an hour or so later, the Business Office next door had found some sort of small portable television and propped it on a chair to pull in live coverage. I remember standing behind their counter, watching in awe and horror.

            I went to a doctor appointment with a friend, and the whole time she was with the doctor, I sat in the lobby, jaw dropped, watching the TV. I went to the dentist and peered over her hands to watch that TV while she searched for cavities.

            Each time I found a new landing place with a news report, it had gotten worse. The death toll wasn’t just climbing; it was soaring.

            That evening, I had a Stampin’ Up party scheduled in Kokomo – ironically with Ryan’s family. They’re all a bunch of crafters and bought many stamps from me over the years. I offered to cancel, but they felt like being together was important that day, and I was grateful for that. Being home alone sounded awful to me. I drove over and we halfheartedly stamped while keeping an eye on the TV in the corner.

            My parents were on vacation. My roommate worked nights and was gone all night. My on-again-off-again boyfriend was out of town for work. When I got home from that stamping party, I sat and waited for the world to finish crumbling around me, because it felt like that would surely happen.

            And for so many, it did just that on that day, half a lifetime ago.

            Today I have to work, but I will have those stories on the TV in the background. I will give as much of my attention as I can to honoring the lives through sitting with the stories, just as I do every single year.

            It’s been half a lifetime, and yet it was surely just yesterday. The lives matter just as much today. The losses are just as significant.

            Today I will sit in remembrance. Today I will honor the stories.