Never to be Forgotten
How One Day Shook a Country to Its Core
Where Do You Turn When a Plane Swallows a Building?
I remember the phone rang. The phone never rang that early. As I swabbed the sleep from my eyes, I noticed the clock. It was 8 am. I had been laid off, so listlessness was setting in.
“Hello?” I said, the scratchiness creeping up in the back of my throat.
“Get up! Turn on your TV!” It was my brother.
“Why? What’s happening?”
“Just get up!”
Click.
For the next two hours, I sat plastered to the visual box of movement. I saw a man floating off a tall building, falling to his death. I saw a plane crash into a high-rise building. I saw another plane crash in the middle of a field. My brain couldn’t untangle what I was seeing. I couldn’t move, and I barely breathed. I know I didn’t eat — not for a long while.
After a few hours, I finally got up. As I walked past my den, I saw an unopened box out of the side of my eye. It was a box of books. I tore the top open and rummaged until I found a Bible my brother had given me. I never declared myself a Christian, which is why my brother gave me this gift. He was trying to convince me.
