Where were YOU?

I was a Stay-at-home Mom, with a 7 month old. We were lazily moving through our morning routine of breakfast, chores, bath when the tv broke into whatever show was on (Regis?) to announce the news of the first plane.

My first thought: Where the F$%# is Daddy??????
(My Father spends more time in the air, on a plane, than any person on this Earth. And he had, in fact, taken that morning cross-country flight to LA the day before.)

Within minutes, my phone lines, booth house and cell, began jingling.

Once we ascertained that he was NOT on that flight, I sat in stunned silence and watched the horror unfold.
At first, I cursed whatever stupidity had caused that plane, or that pilot, to fly into a fricking building forGod'ssake...but when I saw the second plane, I understood.

Being the daughter of an Aviation Safety Specialist educates you in ways you don't think about consciously. It is the very reason I will not fly today. (Though, again, my Father is in the air more than he is on the ground.)

The rest of the day was spent in stupefied horror, watching the events play out like a horror movie. I never moved from the couch. The baby nursed almost all day.

I remember thinking that I should be there. I remember thinking that if I didn't have this baby, and it had been Boston, I would have been there.

I remember talking to former colleagues in Boston later that day, who expressed much the same sentiment; we all ached to be there, to get our hands busy, to help out, to do something.
I remember thinking how strange it was to be that person, who sat safely on her sofa with her 7 month old baby in her arms, and (secretly) wished to be at Ground Zero.
I remember being relieved that there were people who felt as I did.
I remember understanding that the policemen and firefighters who were lost in those buildings that day felt that way, too.

I remember.
I will never forget.