I remember it was morning.
It seems like it was breakfast time around nine am.
Coffee was brewing and the eggs cooking with the smell of hot toast in the air.
The station on TV was interrupted as pictures covered the screen with trauma and pain.
I stood in shock. Disbelief.
Then I called my husband at work and told him there had been attacks.
It was awful.
Devastating.
Horrible and very hard to believe.
My grand daughter was little and normally watching her little shows
but on this day I had to listen and find out what happened.
I did not turn Cat in the Hat back on
my mind could not listen to mindless chatter.
I remember again looking at the screen as the towers crumbled like tissue paper.
Tumbling down. IN a heap of dust and debris.
People running everywhere and screaming and praying and dying.
I was glad my grand daughter was little at the time and not able to comprehend
what was taking place in real time before her eyes.
I had a knot in my throat and stomach all day long.
I couldn’t help but think about people going to work as if it was a normal day.
The mom’s and dad’s speaking orders to kids who were used to doing
what was being told in the morning so they could be where they needed to be on time.
Routines taking place.
The same ones over and over every day.
Then
The clock stopped.
Time stood still and frozen.
In a heap of knarled metal and broken glass the towers fell.
People stood in silence covering their mouths and their eyes from what was before them.
I even imagine the ones who never prayed.
Prayed on this day.
It was September 11th the day the world was silent.
The day our United States was under attack.
The day we all prayed, “God please be with America.”