We were living in Toronto. Dr. J had been accepted to medical school and we were hanging out basking in the glory of our new baby while preparing for our move to another country.
This particular morning instead of the three of us sleeping in as we usually did- I woke up early to get ready for my first Mommy and Baby Yoga class. I put on The Howard Stern Radio show and putzed around the kitchen. I don’t remember his exact words but I heard it from Howard first- A plane hit the World Trade Center in New York. I remember walking to the TV and turning it on. I was still standing in front of the TV listening to the confusion and conflicting reports when I watch, live, as the second plane hit. I woke Dr J up. We watched. How can the buildings not fall I remember asking out loud.
I went to my yoga class. By the time I got back everything was down.
I watched the replay of the buildings collapse hundreds of times over and over.
Despite Toronto not even being in the same country, our city shut down.
Our subways shut down. Our Airspace shut down. Our finical sector shut down. Our city was solemn.
I feel pain for the people who lost loved ones- People who wanted to believe with every fiber of their being- but knowing.
Those last phone calls- they get to me.
The decisions- so many hard decisions- decisions to go up, decisions to jump down- brave decisions.
The emptiness of seeing empty stretchers, an over abundance of donated blood and rescue dogs laying idly-
It gets to me.
Where were you?
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