Remembering

I'm sitting at my desk on this grey day and through the window I can see the flag on top of the Library of Congress flying at half mast. On the news they are replaying the footage from this day five years ago, and I still feel horrified as I watch it. There will be a lot of "where were you when you heard..." today, and, like all of you, I have a story to remember. September 11, 2001, marked the end of my first week interning on Capitol Hill, and I watched the second plane hit the south tower from an office mere yards from the U.S. Capitol Building. When the third plane hit the Pentagon, I felt a wave of panic. A news clip of the President today quoted his response to seeing the Pentagon burning--"The mightiest building in the world is on fire"--and those were my thoughts as I wondered what could possibly be next. I also realized afresh that I wasn't in Idaho any more, Toto. Suddenly the Capitol Building, one of my all-time favorite places, looked like an ominous bull's eye.

I remember going to sleep that night with the sound of blackhawks and fighter jets in the air, wondering if this was a taste of the new "normal." I remember the next day, driving past the Pentagon on the way to work and the smoke was still billowing, the ragged gash clearly visible from the freeway. I remember reading the September 11 papers on September 12 and how strange it was that the front page article had been about Britney Spears. I remember sobs of emotion catching in my throat unexpectedly at the slightest provocation--a flag flying on a bridge, a picture of a soot-covered first responder, a thought of those who waited in horror for their plane to crash, any mention of family or love or loss. I remember finding out a few days later that Flight 93 had indeed been headed toward the Capitol Building and a cold sweat broke out all over me.

I remember my first post-9/11 flight a couple weeks later and how everyone was so friendly despite the three-hour security line. It was as if they realized that the people they were standing next to might become their comrades in arms. I grabbed a sandwich at a restaurant near my gate, and there weren't enough tables so I shared with a stranger. In response to my saying I was from Idaho, he told me how he and some colleagues had rented a car and drove through Idaho on the way back from Seattle after 9/11 when their flight was cancelled. He thought Idaho was beautiful. I remember visiting Ground Zero two months later and ending up in Brooklyn because the trains had been rerouted due to the destruction in downtown Manhattan but there hadn't been time to change the maps yet. When we finally found our way there, how quiet it was! I remember choking up in December when one of the children whose father had died in the Pentagon on 9/11 flicked the switch to turn on the lights for the White House Christmas Tree.

Last night Jason and I watched some of the tv specials recalling that day. I wrapped myself up in blankets to feel safe. I feel eerily grateful to those people on Flight 93. Occasionally the unbidden sob still surprises me, and I can hardly believe that it has been five years. Of course it has changed my daily life in DC, where the word "security" has taken on a life of its own. But I think it changed me, too, making me more sympathetic. Things still feel more real. It roughly threw life into clarity and perspective. And today it is very important to me to remember.