"Not a cloud in the sky."

It was a clear day here, too, and early when it began. I was already at work. As it unfolded, we gathered in groups and grew increasingly distraught. No, we wouldn't close; we did not want to ignite any panic beyond what was already spreading.

The TV was brought out in a conference room. We milled in and out, all of us in a daze. No one knew what to say, or do. We all tried to do our usual duties. A colleague and I had to go to another of our offices, ironically to finalize the satellite uplink we have with a Wall Street financial service. Few were on the road as we made our way there.

The city was eerily quiet and empty. Except for a pair a fighter jets out of Kirtland AFB that flew over when I was home for lunch, there was nothing. I had the radio on, and the TV. None of it made sense.

I have a blank space here; how did any of us get through that unspeakable horror? I only remember much later, when I was home for the day and finally connected to those I needed to hear from. Contacting my sister, thankfully not flying that day; learning my future brother-in-law, an airline captain, was stranded but safe in Kansas City; calling my closest friend, who had just moved to Texas by himself; e-mailing another close friend in Massachusetts, back and forth all night. At about 2:00 a.m. I saw a video of that first plane on a Spanish TV station and thought I had hallucinated it. Especially since I had no idea what they were saying. And especially when I never saw it again, or at least not for a long time. Time was blurred, so it's a little hard to remember some of the specifics.

But the rest of it, as clear as that day was.


~William's mom.
Photo courtesy of miragestudio7