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Monday, September 11, 2006

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Requiem for a clear morning.

I remember.

"Go turn on the tv now."

"It's on already...the kids are watching cartoons. Why?"

"Go turn on an American channel. Two passenger planes just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City"

Two planes. Two planes. He said two planes. I am standing in my mother's kitchen by the front door looking through the room divider at the children watching television. I am in Newfoundland. Patrick is in his office in Little Rock, having gone home ahead of us. It is a little more than a week since I poured the ashes of my father's body over the side of a boat. He said two planes. Two planes. Two.

One plane would be an accident. A terrible accident. He said two.


I drop the phone. By the time I make it around the corner of the living room, the children's programming has been interupted. There are the towers, and there are parts missing from them. Like an amputee with phantom pain, my mind fixates on the parts that aren't there. I suppose I breathe. I suppose I am aware of the children. Maybe I take steps to shield them from what is unfolding on the the screen. Maybe I even call back my husband. I know I call my mother and tell her, for the second time in my life, to come home, something terrible has happened.

When she comes in, the second tower has just fallen. I am standing in the living room and I can't stop crying. I am crying for the people I have just watched die, turning to dust and ash before my eyes. I am crying for my father, dust and ash falling through my fingers. The "two-planes-two" refrain changes. It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world. I don't think I can breathe ever again.

I remember.

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Anonymous Jenna said...

That was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing your story.

We remember as well.

12:03 PM  
Anonymous Karina said...

That you would be watching it from Newfoundland while I was standing on the corner of Wall Street and Broadway, watching the second plane hit the WTC, amazes me. That we could grow up in Newfoundland with matching Samoyeds(who hated each other, remember?) with our earliest memories from Blackwood Place (there was an incident where you brought a mouse to our house and terrified my mom, yes? or did I imagine that?) and yet, years later, be linked to the same event, at the same time, yet with so many miles in between...amazing.

3:11 PM  
Blogger K. said...

you forgot our stoner ex-boyfriends :)

It amazes me too...I don't know how life can contain such magic and horror and banality all at the same time.

I'm just glad for the good company along the way.


4:15 PM  
Blogger patsyrose said...

I remember when Kennedy died...the sick feeling that the world was spinning out of control. But watching the towers hit and destroyed was even worse...I thought it might be the end of the world and that we'd been thrust into the ravages of war just like those third world countries we only see on television. It's still agony to watch the reruns 5 years later. But we're still here, Kyran, and the world hasn't ended yet. We still have time.

5:55 PM  
Blogger bluebird of paradise said...

how your words can evoke such emotion. you move me, you move me to tears...........

5:20 AM  
Blogger littlepurplecow said...

What a thoughtful, moving post. Thanks for sharing.

9:40 AM  

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