Today is a day that always brings me deep reflection and sadness, as it does for many people across the country. Here is my story....
13 years ago was the first day of classes of my senior year of college. It was one of those PERFECT days. Just beautiful! Cool, crisp air, deep blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds just along the horizon, warm sunshine. I was living in Jersey City, and although my roommates and I had taken the train route into the city a couple of times, this was the first of many times we'd be making the regular commute through the World Trade Center...or so we thought.
We had left a little early so we'd have plenty of time to find our classrooms and lecture halls, so it wasn't a big deal when one of my roommates wanted to run back to our house from the light rail station to get her sunglasses (the sun was shining so bright after all). But I have often thought of this moment over the last 13 years....pondered how much impact this seemingly minuscule decision made on all of our lives that day.
While we were waiting for her to come back a train came and went. So we waited and took the next one. Part way through the ride to the PATH station (the train that would take us under the Hudson to the station in the basement of the towers), people started to check their cell phones and a few people started to talk about how they just got news that a small commuter plane had hit the Trade Center. It was an accident. Like when the plane hit the Empire State Building so many decades ago. We could see a little smoke coming from the tower.
Most people (like us) commuted into the Trade Center because it was such a large hub, but when we got to the station it was a mob scene outside and we decided to go a couple stops further and take a different PATH line into Manhattan. It would take a little longer but it didn't look like the trains were running very quickly into the Trade Center (it was on fire after all).
There were only 4 or 5 of us left on the light rail. I distinctly remember a mom with her brand new baby. We were all staring at the tower with smoke starting to billow as the light rail went on. And then we all saw the second plane in slow motion strike the other tower and explode in a massive fireball. And at that instant we all knew that this was no accident. There were small screams and then just dead silence. The mom clutched her baby and sobbed silently. I've always wondered if her husband (or another family member) worked in the towers.
In shock, we were all forced to get off at the next stop. All mass transit was being shut down. Our cell phones didn't work. Everything came to a screeching halt. We had no choice but to walk the miles back to our house. We didn't know what else to do or where else we should go.
Along the way we stopped in a hotel to try to make some phone calls from the pay phone in the lobby to tell our families that we were okay but they wouldn't go through. The TVs in the lobby were reporting it was terrorism. Which we knew already. On our walk back people had their car doors open with news on the radio so everyone passing by could hear. We weren't the only ones making the long trek back home. We heard that the Pentagon was hit. We also heard rumors from people talking on the street that the White House and Congressional building had been hit too. And we heard that another plane had crashed in Pennsylvania.
Our view of the towers was obstructed the whole walk back but we had a great view of them from our house. When we finally got to our house hours later, we couldn't see the towers because of all the smoke. We didn't realize it was actually because they weren't there anymore until we got inside and turned on the TV.
We finally were able to get a couple phone calls out to our families and let them know that we had missed the train, that we weren't in the basement like their worst fears were telling them. My boyfriend (now husband) tried to come get me that night....I just wanted to get as far away from there as possible....but the roads were closed whichever way he tried to go. We listened to emergency vehicles scream past our house all night. And all the next day. Two days later he was finally able to get to my house.
I by no means have the saddest or most horrible story from that day. But it is my story. And they are memories that will always stick with me. I always wonder what would have happened if we got on that first light rail train. And I always remember the families who did not get a call from their loved ones a few hours later. The events of that day, and the days and weeks following were horrific.
But I also try not to let hatred and fear win. I remember this day with sadness, but I also remember that it strengthened me. It made me focus on what was really important....not the number of 4.0s on my transcript, not some shiny awards and a piece of paper with my name on it, not the job I was going to get and the money I was going to earn. When I graduated a few months later I could have gotten a high-power, high-paying corporate job (that was the track I had been on). Instead I decided to take the road less traveled and start a business with my husband where we have been lucky enough to work together almost every day for the last 11 years. That day made me even more thankful for my family and the love and hope we share.
It made me realize that I took my future for granted and some people didn't see more than that day. I have always been stubborn and determined, but I wonder if part of my increased determination and unwillingness to give up comes from knowing that some people didn't get the chance to go on that day, but I did....and for their sake and in honor of their memories I need to make the most of what I was given.
I will always remember. Never forget.
