Eight years ago my oldest daughter was four and we were living in Las Vegas. Her dad is a pilot for United and had just slipped out the front door heading to the airport to commute to Los Angeles to begin his work day. For the first and only time ever, she woke up frantic at 5:45 am asking if her dad had left yet.
We rushed out the door in our pjs and caught him in the driveway. She hugged him and he whispered to me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Since we both had aviation backgrounds, we both assured ourselves the pilot of a small aircraft must've had a medical emergency. There was nothing in our wildest imaginations that could have let us even entertain the thought of what was rapidly becoming reality.
I brought my daughter back into the house and tried to get a little more sleep. Her sister was still asleep and I was 5 months pregnant with another girl.
An hour later the phone rang. It was my sister-in-law asking me if I knew what happened. Since I hadn't turned any media on, I told her I knew a plane hit the World Trade Center. She told me I didn't know anything and filled me in.
Not wanting to upset my still-not-sleeping daughter, I turned on the computer. There was no way any news site would load, so I had to go to the TV. I called the pilot and told him to come home. He said he wasn't released. I told him everything was grounded and just come home. Luckily for us, he eventually did.
My phone started ringing and e-mails started flooding in. The pilot worked for United and flew the exact type of aircraft involved. He even flew the very route that was hijacked just the week before. I got e-mails from a dear friend in Manhattan, completely traumatized while watching office papers from the WTCs flutter down onto his apartment balcony.
A lot changed that day. My daughter asked why Daddy's plane kept flying into that building. We did a lot of soul searching and decided, in part, to relocate closer to family. We, as a family and as a nation, changed. Innocence was lost.
A year later we were living in a new state and our daughter just started kindergarten. We had the last of our kids in our arms. And Diane Sawyer had a special on about the babies born to the women who lost their husbands and boyfriends in the tragedy. And I found the pilot crying. Although it was touching, I found a lot of hope in that special and was confused by the tears.
He finally had a realization. All he said was "That could've been you."
We rushed out the door in our pjs and caught him in the driveway. She hugged him and he whispered to me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Since we both had aviation backgrounds, we both assured ourselves the pilot of a small aircraft must've had a medical emergency. There was nothing in our wildest imaginations that could have let us even entertain the thought of what was rapidly becoming reality.
I brought my daughter back into the house and tried to get a little more sleep. Her sister was still asleep and I was 5 months pregnant with another girl.
An hour later the phone rang. It was my sister-in-law asking me if I knew what happened. Since I hadn't turned any media on, I told her I knew a plane hit the World Trade Center. She told me I didn't know anything and filled me in.
Not wanting to upset my still-not-sleeping daughter, I turned on the computer. There was no way any news site would load, so I had to go to the TV. I called the pilot and told him to come home. He said he wasn't released. I told him everything was grounded and just come home. Luckily for us, he eventually did.
My phone started ringing and e-mails started flooding in. The pilot worked for United and flew the exact type of aircraft involved. He even flew the very route that was hijacked just the week before. I got e-mails from a dear friend in Manhattan, completely traumatized while watching office papers from the WTCs flutter down onto his apartment balcony.
A lot changed that day. My daughter asked why Daddy's plane kept flying into that building. We did a lot of soul searching and decided, in part, to relocate closer to family. We, as a family and as a nation, changed. Innocence was lost.
A year later we were living in a new state and our daughter just started kindergarten. We had the last of our kids in our arms. And Diane Sawyer had a special on about the babies born to the women who lost their husbands and boyfriends in the tragedy. And I found the pilot crying. Although it was touching, I found a lot of hope in that special and was confused by the tears.
He finally had a realization. All he said was "That could've been you."
Oh, Mare. I'm in tears. Life is such a weird and tangled mess. Thank you for sharing the story.
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