Sept 11th

Five years ago I was awoken by a phone call from my dad, who immediately asked if I had seen the news. I said, "No, Dad, you woke me up!" And I still recall his reply and I think I will until my dying day:

"Oh it's awful, it's just awful...(deep breath)...terrorists have attacked New York and Washington. The President is in a plane, they won't disclose his location, but he's alive. Our nation is under attack." He told me to stay in my dorm room until we figured more out, and that he had to call my brother to tell him.

I stumbled out of my bedroom in time to see the towers collapse on TV. I called my then-longtime-boyfriend who was from Long Island. He couldn't get in touch with his dad who worked in Rockefeller Center and his best friend worked in Tower 2. He had to get off the phone in case someone--anyone--called with news. He was beside himself with panic. I felt numb.

The campus was surreal. A lot of the Vanderbilt kids had parents who worked in the Twin Towers. People were hysterical, there was a huge phone bank in the student union for kids to try--and try--and TRY to reach family in New York. Counselors were bussed in from miles around. I didn't cry because I felt I didn't deserve to cry for those I didn't know.

A Sigma Chi who had just graduated died in the Towers. He sent an email before he died. The Sigma Chis hung their one-story-high flag from their building and put floodlights on it, and blared bagpipes funeral music for a whole two days. The frat brothers sobbed. Many other Vanderbilt recent alumni died that day. I wrote a prayer and gave it at the University-wide service. I don't remember much from that service because they played Adagio for Strings, which is what we played at Justin's memorial service, and I suddenly couldn't stop crying. I have never heard that song since he died and not cried. People thought I was sobbing for those who died in the Towers and I guess I was...I was crying for all who grieve, and all we've lost, and lives snuffed out too early. Suddenly I was surrounded by other people who had lost their best friends like I had. It was terrible.

My ex's dad walked all the way to Long Island in borrowed shoes where his exhausted wife picked him up, crying. His best friend happened to be late to work that day and got off the train just as the towers collapsed. He turned and ran. He made it home okay. What luck. My ex's home church lost over 200 people that day.

My roommate wanted to watch every piece of news coverage, almost like a drug. For me it was too close. A family friend was in the Towers too at a conference. He was in one of the lower stories and ran to safety. Others weren't so lucky. I still hate seeing the footage. In fact it makes me sick.

It's still really hard for me to process all of this. My dog's whimpering because I'm crying--"It's okay, Chester!" But really, it's not. They're still out there, and they're planning more. I just hope we stay one step ahead. And I admit, I still like the photo of the Statue of Liberty with her middle finger stuck high in the air, saying, "We're coming, motherfuckers!" I know it's wrong to feel vengeful but there it is.