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9:25 p.m.-2003-09-11

I remember September 11th. For many reasons. Just the night before, I was thrilled with myself. I had just remembered my grandmother's birthday of my own free will, for the first time in my LIFE. I was going to call her, that morning...She's two time zones away, and I was working graveyard shift, so it worked out perfectly. I'd call her when I knew she was up, getting ready for work, and I'd wish her a happy birthday. Instead of three days or two weeks later, when someone reminded me.

I was working graveyard. I'd been on that damned graveyard shift for years. Always a promise of being put on a better shift, and like the raises I was promised, it had never happened. Several things happened that early morning, that had never happened before.

For one, I dozed off. I actually fell asleep at my post. Not just dozed. Really fell...asleep. And I know I fell completely asleep, because I heard the sound. It woke me up. It was like hearing a stadium full of people, all take a breath at once, in shock and dismay and horror. I sat there for the longest time, staring at the puddle of drool on my desk, thinking to myself, that I must've dreamed it. And then, I did something else I never do. I reached over, and turned on the radio. To keep myself awake, I did. And I glanced at the clock. 5:48 am, it read. I don't know why I noticed the time. So I flipped on the radio. Only to hear the annoying morning show crew of the local radio station asking in laughing voices, "Are you still there?" "Did Michael grab himself during the show?" I stupidly remembered that they'd sent some listener to see Michael Jackson in concert that night, or something. Maybe it was to a broadway show. I forget the details, because the listener they were interviewing, all the way across the country said in a shocked voice, "Something just hit the Trade Center tower."

Dead silence. And then, confusion. You could hear the strange sound, of sirens and people in a crowd in the background. And then, the DJ cut in, apologizing, but saying that there was breaking news. A small plane had hit the Empire State Building. Oh wait, no. The World Trade Center.

I remember hearing myself groan aloud, and say softly, "That wasn't a small plane. It's just beginning."

About that time, one of the residents (I was working in a nursing home) came downstairs, to my desk. I turned my radio down for a few seconds, to talk to the man, and then turned it back up in time to hear the chaos begin.

I don't really remember the rest of the morning. I had my radio, which I took to listen to the TV stations at work...so I took my radio...and I got on my bus...and I sat and I listened. I missed my stop. I wound up nearly downtown, instead of getting to my second job (which is now my first and only job...) on time. I didn't care. I stayed glued to my little radio, and paid $5 to some kid to get his batteries out of his game boy, when my batteries started to die.

I finally got to my second job, only to find the little flag store that sits down the corner from the pharmacy...they weren't going to open for another 30 minutes. There was a line of at least fifty people outside...and some woman had a couple of boxes of donuts...she was handing them out to the people waiting. By the time I went for lunch that day...the flag shop was out of anything resembling a US flag.

I can still remember the gasp I swear I heard, that woke me out of a sound sleep at 5:45 that morning. Nearly a year later, I found out from my mother, that I was CONCEIVED in the hotel that used to stand near ground zero. The towers were just finished. My parents went there, on a belated honeymoon.

This morning, at 5:45, I woke up with one of those nasty dreams. You know, the dreams that aren't...where you feel like you're falling, and then you SLAM into the bed, and wake yourself up with your startle. I tossed. I turned. I couldn't figure out why I couldn't sleep. I laid there, annoying the cat, and the other half, listening to a neighbor who whipped out the bagpipes to play 'Amazing Grace'...badly. I got up. I dug around till I found my little journal that I used to keep off and on. I did the same thing last year...funny, because I didn't THINK about September 11. I didn't dwell on it. I cried my tears, like many, and then had to go on with life...but this morning, I woke up with a startle...at 5:45am. 8:45am. Funny, what your heart seems to remember.

Before <--o--> After

the other half typing away in the other room
some ice water
I remember...where were you?

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