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9'll
When the World Stopped Turning
When we awoke that Tuesday morning in September, the kids I was helping to care for were off to school, on buses, the older children were home, and a television was on in the computer room, another in the living room, and background noise, until all of our eyes were fixated on those screens, and frantic calls came in asking if we were safe.
As we stared at those screens, we felt a sense of reverence. There were a few gasps when the reality of the situation became apparent. A terrorist attack was taking place against America.
After a short time, we continued to watch, unable to pull away, unwilling to see, but unable to look away. It would not make it less real if you didn’t see it, this was reality. Ten and twelve year olds walked in, sent home from school earlier, active threats even to the school. They were terrified. Their Mother in class, with my Mother, their Dad at work, I was left to comfort these distraught kids, to help them understand something that could never make sense, the older child with learning difficulties, but that day we were all challenged, trying to figure out what had just happened.
T.V. played the horrific news, the replay of the first tower falling. What makes buildings so tall, so indestructible, fall so easily?
