Last night while laying in bed, I finally had my time to reflect on 9/11. And I remember the quiet.
My house lies just north of the flight path into Runway 12L at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. Airplane noise is a fact of life for us. Every night as I lay in bed I hear planes landing and taking off. Especially in early September when the windows to the bedroom are open.
The most enduring memory of 9/11 (and the next night, too). Absolutely no airplane noise. Nada. None taking off. None landing.
I remember laying in bed with our 3 year old and 9 month old tucked in between us. I remember needing to feel them touching me. I remember just holding them. And not hearing airplanes. The silence was a deafening reminder of what had occured.
Later I put the girls in their beds. Amelia had night terrors that night. She was thrashing and moaning and crying. First time ever. It's never happened since. At her young age, she had picked up on the angst everywhere.
Charlie and I went outside for a breath of air. And looked up. No airplanes anywhere in the night sky. Go look sometime. You will see lots of plane lights flashing as the planes move through the air. That night there were none. Except way, way, way up high, higher than I had ever noticed aircraft before, you could see some lights. There were two of them and they appeared to be moving parallel to each other, one going straight north, the other straight south. Military aircraft, silently keeping vigil. Criss-crossing the night sky over the USA. The only thing in the air.
And absolutely no airplane noise. nada. none.
I remember the quiet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Yes, I remember the quiet too. We lived across the river from the airport, and didn't realize just how much airplane noise and traffic we witnessed each day until it was gone. Every bump in the night frightened me. Every car door slamming. It all sounded so infinitely loud without the backdrop of the airliners. For those first few days I thought, "the world is over...this is really it" For those first few days I was nervous walking in downtown. I kept looking up. For those first few days I understood in a new way what Post Traumatic Stress felt like.
Post a Comment