In a sea of memories, here's my little raindrop...

Sunday, September 11, 2016 

 My 9/11/01 story

I was already in an unusual state of excitement and anticipation that morning, because my parents were due to fly to Chicago from England that day, to visit us for 3 weeks! So I got up early and began happily cleaning and tidying our apartment, ready for their arrival that afternoon. I didn't have the TV on. (I didn't then and I still don't watch TV during the day) I didn't have the radio on either, and I wasn't obsessed with checking my email, phone, or internet back then (and this was *before* Facebook), so I was blissfully unaware of the news all morning!

So blissfully unaware was I, that after cleaning the apartment, I decided to take my 1 year old son to the local park for some fresh air! It was a beautifully sunny September morning with clear blue skies. I strapped Tristan in the stroller and off we went. We spent a peaceful hour at the local playground by the beach, me pushing Tristan on the baby swings. It was a very quiet morning - not much traffic around - just a few people walking their dogs.

But then, when I returned from the park, I turned the key in the door to our apartment, and... standing just inside the door was a red-eyed, ashen faced Dave! What was he doing home from work? It was only 10 am! He was trembling and his first words were, "They've gone!" (He was referring to the Twin Towers). I had no idea what he was talking about. I assumed he was ill. He certainly looked ill. It took several minutes for him to convey to me what was going on, what had happened, and for me to grasp it. Everyone working in towers in Chicago (which included Dave), had been sent home for fear of further terrorist attacks on Chicago. I don't remember getting Tristan out of his stroller. I just remember Dave leading me by the hand to the TV (which he'd turned on in my absence) and showing me the unfolding news, and both of us just sitting there in shocked silence, our hands over our mouths, watching in horror.

Meanwhile, my parents had boarded their plane at London Heathrow, and had taxied out to the runway. After sitting on the tarmac for an hour, they were told they would have to return to the airport terminal building and disembark. They didn't learn why, until they saw the TV screens in the terminal building with the news. They then had to wait another hour to collect their luggage, and then had to go home! They were very lucky they hadn't already taken off - at least they got the chance to go home, without being stranded somewhere!

But in the meantime, I was trying to get through on the phone to England - and couldn't! All phone lines out of the US were (temporarily) clogged up! There was an automated voice saying "We're sorry - all international lines are busy at this time". I kept dialing and re-dialing and eventually got through to my Auntie Jenny (who had dropped my parents off at Heathrow airport that morning). She was also watching the BBC news in horror. At that point, she didn't know what my parents' status was - and I remember feeling very scared! My parents didn't have cell phones at that time, and there was no way to contact them or find out where they were or what they were doing. Dave reassured me that they would at least be safe. But he also told me emphatically that they wouldn't be coming to Chicago! My Auntie Jenny eventually called me back and told me she'd heard from my parents - they were waiting at Heathrow airport, and she had to go back and pick them up again - another hour's drive (each way)!

So, on top of the shock and pain that we all experienced that day, I felt a great sense of loneliness, disappointment and fear, at being cut off from my parents in England. I had a very tidy, clean house (for once!) - the sheets were all washed and set on their bed, the bathroom was all cleared out to make room... but no parents were there to fill it! It felt very empty. (And at the time, I had no idea how long they would be "cut off" from us). It was scary to think that my loved ones were now inaccessible. Suddenly, the ocean between us felt like an overwhelmingly huge chasm.

It turned out that my parents were able to reschedule their flight to Chicago for the following week. It occurs to me now how brave they were to still fly out to us only a week after such terrible events. But even though the world was still reeling in shock and horror, my Mum said (something like), "Well we're not going to let these terrorists dictate our lives - life goes on, and by hook or by crook we are flying out to be with our daughter!"

I wouldn't learn about all the terrible tragedies of that day until much later, but I do remember feeling a great deal of fear that day - fear of the unknown - fear of the world collapsing around us. Without the perspective of time, that day felt like the world had been rocked by evil forces beyond our control. And I remember feeling very very small.