Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Today is September 11, 2002. The sky is blue like last year, but there is a strong wind, bringing in the cooler air to replace the 93 degree heat of yesterday. Large clouds, still white and fluffy, coat the western horizon. The large weeping willow in the neighboring yard of my workplace blows wildly, its branches like dreadlocks on the head of a frenzied dancer. But Blue Mountain stands stoically to the north, keeping guard over the Harrisburg plain.
Last year I was dozing on and off as the morning news droned in the background. I was nursing a broken right wrist and a broken left forearm after being bucked off my horse (whom I have since sold), and was working only half-days. I remember waking with a sudden alertness to the news that the World Trade Center was on fire. I watched in horror. I called some people at work to tell them of the news, apprehensive yet satisfied that I was home able to follow the unfolding events. The TV has been on all night, every night, ever since.
There is fear that an attack could take place here. My home is only 15 miles from Three Mile Island. Three Mile Island is near our "International" airport and has a certain notoriety, probably enough to make it an out of the ordinary target. Although I realize that there is nothing that I can do, a layer of anxiety wraps around daily, mundane events and I think about how I would evacuate the area, how I would care for my dogs and cat, how I would get Kimberly from school, where Ron would be...
My son, and not out of character for him, has chosen to fly through last night into this morning. He returns on Friday the 13th, his 29th birthday. At my insistence he did call me from the airport to give me flight information.
I did not watch news shows last night, although I did this morning. Right now I am listening to NPR. The commentator asks, "How have we changed?" I will ponder that in another blog.
Rosalind 8:34 AM
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