An Anniversary

September 11^th was a Tuesday.

I watched the news that morning as I ate breakfast.

I saw the plane go into the second tower. Stunned, shocked, horrified, I went to work.

We huddled around the tv, analyzing targets and flight paths, watching commentary, on edge.

We were sent home. Fortunately, the bridge was still open, and someone was able to drive a few of us home.

It reminded me of a common aspect of biblical battles. Then, the goal was to take a people's leader, army, and gods. I concluded that was what the terrorists were trying to do, having targeted the White House (our leader), the Pentagon (our army) and the Twin Towers (our gods).

Not that the towers themselves were America's gods. But didn’t that Manhattan skyline often represent our love of Money and Stuff?

I sought to escape the never ending news analysis, a challenge without cable. That weekend, a PBS station aired the History of Rock & Roll without pledge breaks. I drank hot chocolate, ate tortilla chips, and stayed sane.

For a month, I didn’t' wear my slippers while at home. I wore tennis shoes. I had to be prepared.

My next few times on an airplane, I paid rapt attention to the flight attendant. I noted the exits, and how to open the doors. I carefully read the laminated procedures in the seat pocket. I had to be prepared.

Now, I read the newspaper in the morning. I'm late to learning the news in the world.

Now, my version of panic is putting my phone, id, keys and credit cards into my pockets, lest I have to leave my purse behind. I have to be prepared.

For many, the dredging of memory occurred last year, the ten year anniversary. I shrugged.

Because September 11^th was a Tuesday.