The Boy was one day shy of being 2 weeks old on 9/11/01. I sometimes wonder if the sleep deprivation and post-partum hormonal flux contributed to the surreality of my memories of that day, because I remember it as being vividly, almost ethereally, bright and clear. And still. Completely still.
And there I sat, with a newborn on my lap, watching events unfold that I couldn't really get my head around for days afterward. I'll never forget it.
As a kid, I'd heard the grownups talk from time to time about "where they were when Kennedy was shot," and I remember wondering how someone could possibly remember mundane details about their individual lives on one particular day at one particular moment. Now I know.
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