Sunday, September 11, 2011
I was talking to a friend on the phone about the Civil War, about soldiers and how brave and/or crazy they are to actually, willingly, walk onto a battlefield, knowing they could very well be killed. Bloody hell. My friend's TV was on in the background, he said, "Oh. It looks like a plane hit the WTC." We finished our talk, said goodbye.
I remember watching the video of the towers and pentagon over and over again, sitting on the floor of my housemate's bedroom, watching the TV. I had only lived in the house for a few months, I barely knew him, but I didn't want to be alone.
I don't remember much else about that day ten years ago except I do remember that around 9:30 or 10:00 I heard a very deep boom. Car alarms went off on the street, Jake crawled under the bed. The Pentagon is only 5 miles away. I think we heard the plane hitting the building.
After 9/11 everything changed. I'm still sad. Perhaps I always will be.