Working: At Life

Just another personal weblog.

September Mourn

Like those stood beside me and the millions around the country also watching the same anchors in the same studios with the same people reporting live in the city, as well as the journalists themselves, the sight of the second ‘plane, seeming to be weaving its way through the Manhattan skyline before hitting the second tower, and the fiery, smoky, dusty aftermath was a surreal time of grief and confusion, fear and shock, anger and hatred.

I stared, with my colleagues, at the horrific scenes live on the screen in front of us. Even the sounds of the production line seemed to fade into silence as we watched. It was one of those moments in time where nothing else matters. It was the same closed off feeling I had kissing my wife-to-be in the airport concourse that first time we met, when all of the world around us melted away and all that was left was us.

Eventually I returned to his desk, feeling empty and unable to explain the hellacious events I had witnessed. Whatever else I did that day, has blurred into nothingness until it was time to depart.

At the parking lot my wife and baby son waited for me. Hugs and kisses and tears were exchanged and then the infrequent, solemn chat during the trip back to our apartment. As soon as we got in, the television was switched on and we, along with everyone else, attempted to make sense of all that was being laid out in front of us, so graphically – the planes; the jumpers; the tons of once important letters and memos swirling in the wind; the choking dust of the collapsing towers; the unreality of it all.

Eventually we found themselves in bed, whispering as we held each other closely, tears falling, fears growing.

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