Eight years ago Susan worked in New York City.
After five years of staying home to yell at her children Susan got the opportunity to wake up every morning at 4:45, sit on a train for two hours and emerge on the street to find there were people already drunk and arguing with each other.

At first, Susan wasn't all too enthused about working in New York but little by little the city chipped away at her until she got used to it.
In no time they were going steady.
Susan ate Indian food, sushi and falafel for lunch, bought Italian boots on sale and watched elephants walk down Eighth Avenue. Plus, she made friends and grew to understand that New York was a series of neighborhoods just like anywhere else.

Eight years ago Susan stood at the window with her co-workers and looked three miles south.
They saw a sliver of a tall building on fire.
Later she stood on the street with a million people all trying to get home.

Susan has her own thoughts and feelings about that day, as does everyone. She doesn't want it designated as Patriot's Day or a national day of service or anything other than what it is, September 11.

1 comment:

Dawn in Austin said...

We lived and worked in DC at that time. It was a sad and scary day for all of us. We had constuction crews on just about every base in the area. I had to call wives to let them know the bases were locked down and I didn't know when their husbands would be home.

I too have mixed feelings about the day. I certainly don't want it to become a "holiday" with a three day weekend and barbeques and hotdogs, like Veteran's Day and Memorial Day have become. No, definitly not that.

P.S. Sending a hug.