The morning of September 11th 2001, I was living with my parents in our family (my childhood) home in Layton, Utah, with C, S (my daughters) part time, and all our collective dogs (4) & cat (Miss Flower). It was a school day. I didn't allow either of my girls to go to school.
My dad came to my bedroom door and simply said "A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center." I knew by his voice and his experience (career Air Force, three tours to Vietnam and a surrounding island during the Vietnam War) that he didn't think this was a bizarre accident. I voiced that thought myself, "That's not an accident." As I came down the stairs watching the horrific scene unfold on live TV news. He just looked at me in agreement.
My parallel thought to this waking news was, "I need the girls with me." C was with me, in the same room in the same bed, just now waking up. S...that's a long story, but in short, I was driving to pick her and her little dog, PeeWee, up from having escaped out her bedroom window and actively attempting to walk to my house (from two towns away), as the third plane was striking the Pentagon.
The moment I had S in my car, C with us, driving back to my parents home, was the moment I could breathe again.
We were together.
Whatever happened, if the terror spread slowly across the country, if more attacks happened, at least we were together. That's all I could think of and do in those early hours. Be together.
That is all that mattered to me in those horrific moments.
LRM(S)
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