remember when...

18 Years...

I was driving down the sunny, overcrowded street on my way to drop off my car, the USB full of music that Hubs handed me the other day playing loudly.  Deeply engrossed in the joy that comes with owning a convertible on a cool late summer morning, I didn't notice the first notes of the song that had started. 

Then it hit me, I hadn't listened to that collection of music in a long time, so I wasn't fully aware as Alan Jackson started singing "where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day..."

Suddenly 18 years disappeared.  Instantly I was transported back in time, to a place half way around the world. 18 years ago, I had just gotten home from work.  I was using instant messenger to talk to my mom back in the States, my sweet little boy was engrossed in his after school cartoons, my ex was kicked back in his recliner enjoying his annual early September vacation (football season had started) and our girl was over at her friends house, across the street. 

It was a normal day, half way around the world from where it all stopped. 

My little guy was just 10 at the time, he whirled around and looked at me.  The anger was written all over his face.  He'd waited all day to watch his shows, even gotten his homework done quickly so that he could "relax".  I looked at my ex, both of us were in shock at what we were watching on CNN - the only American news channel we had at the time.  They had cut in, breaking news, the first tower already burning we watched in horror as the plane hit the second tower. 

I quickly typed to mom that I had to go, that the towers had just been attacked.  Being a military family I think we understood quicker than others had.  I knew it would impact us greatly.  We lived in a foreign country, on a military base, within walking distance of a major international airport. I needed to get both of my babies with me.  I was frantically calling my daughter home, I understood she was simply across the street, but I wasn't in the mood for her teenage attitude.  I needed her HOME.

As my ex slowly lowered his recliner, we both knew that his vacation was over.  We both understood that soon the phone would ring; that he would be recalled to duty.  We had lived in Germany during Desert Storm, we remembered, he was always mission essential. 

It didn't take us long to process, we were numb, but we understood.  Being military, we also understood that it had to be the work of Osama Bin Laden. It was a name we new, had known, a dangerous man.

As the gates surrounding us locked we were cut off from the outside world, schools were cancelled, Threat Con Delta was implemented.  We both did our jobs as parents and employees. 

I remember feeling thankful that the pantry was stocked, that if needed we would be able to share with neighbors that hadn't had time to go to the main base and were now reliant on a very small shoppette with limited supplies.  We had no idea how long it would last, none of us had any answers. 

There is a picture that is burned into my brain.  One my ex took the day after.  I haven't seen it in years, I don't even know if I have a copy of it.  I don't need one. It lives forever in my heart and mind.  As he went about his duties the following morning, it was raining.  We were confined to our small housing area.  It was eerily quiet, as most traffic had stopped - there was nowhere to go.  The planes were all grounded.  The only sound was rain and soft voices speaking is hushed, stunned tones.  We were all walking on eggshells.  There was no where we could go.  Armed police keeping us safe were everywhere protecting us from an unknown and unseen threat. 

The picture was a single rose, wrapped in plastic, wedged in the back gate and the chains that were enforcing the regular lock.  A kind German had put it there.  A symbol of sympathy and solidarity. It was drenched from the pouring rain.  He'd done it in black and white. It was how the world felt for us.

I don't understand how that day and the days that followed felt for people in the States.  I watched the cycling news in horror.  I don't know how quickly life returned to "normal" in the US, I know that when I left Germany almost a full year later, life hadn't returned completely to normal.  It was a long while before we stopped living in threat con Delta.  Before we went back to threat con Charlie.  Freedom hadn't really returned the way we had treasured it before. 

I spent many nights working the USO so that troops passing through could call their families back home.  Making coffee and providing a safe place.  This was after a day spent working to keep our kids safe.  I spend countless hours arranging armed guards for each bus, on each trip between our bases and schools. I stopped having time to plan the fun events that I had done the year before.  It was all about safety.

It was harder for our kids to come and go from the bases and communities as they used to.  No more traipsing through the woods to the closest village for treats and meet ups with friends, our world so far away had forever changed. 

It is hard to realize an entire generation has been born and raised that will never understand the impact of that September day.  So many that are protesting and fighting because of the silos of race, religion, gender, socio-economic issues, etc. will never know the power of being united and one. 

I grew up in a different type of world. I raised my kids in that same world.  The military is different.  There are many things that I encounter on a daily basis now in my fifties that are awkward and uncomfortable, it feels like life is trying to unteach me a lifetime of knowing to simply love my fellow man. I stumble when I get sucked into conversations that include those silo's, it isn't natural for me.  For a moment in time, America was only filled with American's, it felt wonderful.  For a moment in time, we were able to love completely.  It sad it took something so ugly to do it, even sadder that we have forgotten. 

I'm sitting in a car dealership waiting for a ride.  They ran out of rentals. I technically had the last one assigned to me.  The young man on his way to a major job interview was moments behind me; he was going to have to cancel the repair appointment that it took a week to get.  

Maybe it was the day.  Maybe it was the fact that I could wait for a ride - that my sweet Hubs was able to come a get me, get me to my meeting on time.  Maybe it was that I had all of my work with me... I was able to let them give him the rental. 

I don't know. 

What I do know is that one this day in particular, with the words to that song and the memories of all the stories echoing in my mind, it felt good to be able to say please give it to him. It felt like a higher power decided it for me, long before the words left my mouth. 

The chair I'm sitting in is not that uncomfortable, the work I will get done can happen here or at the table in the meeting area I was heading to.  I was able to help make a person's day just a little bit later. In return it made my day just a little bit better. 

I will never forget where I was that day, the change it made in my life and I will always strive to honor the cost.  The innocent lives shattered, the heroes, the first responders, the working dogs, the lives destroyed and forever altered. 

Five years ago yesterday tragedy struck my family.  I remember the love and compassion even strangers gave us.  Maybe if all strive to live like it might be the last moment, love unconditionally, and not be so self-centered we can overcome so much of the negativity and hurt that radiates through our world today. 

So... where were you?