This Day

On this day 8 years ago I woke up early to make it to airport on time. My husband was working a surgery rotation in a neighboring city, so I made plans to take our 5 month old to visit my parents for a while. My husband took our son and me to the airport on his way to work--it was an unusually chilly morning. . .I worried if the baby was dressed warm enough.

We boarded the airplane and I was disappointed to find my seat was the "middle seat." So, I sat there with the baby in my lap between two men dressed in business suits--praying that this would be a quick trip.

Somewhere over Louisiana or Texas, word got to our plane about a possible plane "crash" in New York. Not being a frequent (or particularly confident) flyer myself, my heart sank at the thought of a plane just like ours crashing. Then, we got news that our plane was to make an early landing in Dallas--not our destination.

Once on the ground, cell phones were drawn and murmurings of hijacking and planes crashing were all about. I did not have a cell phone, so I depended upon the kindness of the two gentlemen beside me on the plane. They let me call my husband and my parents. I got the news.

Just as my plane took to the sky with my child on my lap, other planes filled with other mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children and loved ones were being used as weapons in one of the most devastating terrorist attacks in U.S. history. The very idea of this unbelievable reality haunted my thoughts. . .until my baby started crying. We had been in the sky about an hour and a half and in the plane on the airport landing strip for another 2 hours. He was hungry. Although my two travel companions flanking me on either side were perfectly understanding and gracious throughout the whole crazy ordeal, I sensed it was time that I sought a more private situation to nurse my baby. The stewardess escorted me an uninhabited row at the very back of the plane. I sat, nursed the baby, and I finally cried.

In the 2 hours we were held in the plane on the ground, my parents and family were faithfully working on arrangements for me and the baby in Dallas. My husband's uncle and aunt kindly offered to drive up from Austin to help. The final decision was made that an attorney friend of my father's who lived in Dallas would pick us up at the airport and bring us to his home until my parents could drive down from Arkansas to get us. Once we were allowed off the plane, we entered the most eery, desolate airport imaginable. The terminals were empty but for the occasional television piping in news coverage of the attack and strategically placed airport security workers along the corridors. One of my seat mates on the plane made it his business to escort the baby and me through the airport until we found my father's friend. Upon finding him--or rather, being found by him--our escort made his way hopefully toward a car rental desk. I still wish I'd have had the mind to offer him a ride somewhere.

My father's friend was the most generous and sweet man. He loaded us into his little Lexus and carefully brought us safely to his home with a stop at a local sandwich shop for provisions. He led us up to his elegant upscale downtown apartment--which I'm sure hadn't seen the likes of a 5 month old. Ever. He had afternoon appointments, so he left us in the comfort of his lovely home to rest and wait for my parents to arrive. I called him on the 1st anniversary of September 11 and told him of my deep appreciation for his kindness to us that day. I'm still thankful.

My parents arrived in Dallas late in the afternoon. Just seeing them pull up to the building was immediate balm for my heart, sort of like a child feels when her parent enters her room after a nightmare. Mom and Dad were there, in this new world of uncertainty there was a beacon of light for me. Then, I remember dreading nightfall. I wondered, as we drove that night, how many other people felt the same way I did. During that car ride, I had very little information about the enormity of that day's events--no statistics, no real understanding of the sacrifices others made, no indication of the immense loss and palatable sadness shared by seemingly everyone touched by this tragedy. I think it took several days to absorb it all.

This is only a shadow of my experience on this day 8 years ago. There are things that simply don't fit here. There are things that words simply can't express. But at the end of this day so many years ago, I felt so sad, so thankful, and so changed.