My 9-11

I almost didn't post today, for a number of reasons. Seven years and I'm just now able to wrap my head around the enormity of the attacks and the events that followed.

I sort of don't want to tell my 9-11 story as there is really nothing special or eventful about it.

I feel small and extremely insignificant when I think of the victims, the choices they were forced to make and the lives that were indescribably altered within less than 30 minutes.

So please do not take offense at my tale, please do not think I mean anything than the utmost respect for those who suffered in NYC, the Pentagon and in Pennsylvania.

Here goes:

I lived in LaCrosse, WI at the time. My friends and I all had Tuesday's off, so Monday nights we would get together, drink beer and jam. Drunken Mondays were a blast.

I went to bed that Monday night (or maybe early Tuesday morning, I can't remember for obvious reasons) in my tiny little efficiency/broom closet of an apartment. Living alone had it's privileges. I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing my sad little futon.

I remember walking to the other side of the apartment complex and trying to force my keys into the peephole.

The next thing I know, my cell phone begins ringing.

Eyes open, light cutting through my eyes making me regret the 18 beers that found their way into my stomach and were fighting to get to the front of the line to leave the same way they came in.

Oh, yeah, my phone's ringing.

Hi Mom.

The TV?

Huh? What channel?

What do you mean it doesn't matter?

I quit my job that day and waited for my mob orders, sitting on my sad little raft of a futon quietly crying to myself.

Completely unable to begin comprehending the magnitude of what I just saw unfold on my TV.

Live.

Unedited and without commercial interruption, I watched a woman jump from God knows how far up to escape the fire.

Phone disconnected and so did my mind.

Face goes numb.

This shit's only supposed to happen in the movies, not real life. did I accidentally turn to HBO? Was this another Jerry Bruckheimer movie?

No. God how I wish it was just a movie.

I didn't loose anyone, I didn't know anyone, it didn't directly impact me at that moment but I could just not stop the stinging tears from rolling down my cheeks.

Seven years later, one marriage, two kids, a deployment in the War on Terror, two mobilizations, countless thousands of miles traveled.

The tears still burn and I can't make them stop.

And I feel guilty somehow. I didn't suffer, what right do I have to cry?

I constantly put these thoughts out of my head as there is still a job to do.

Seven years later, the job is still not finished, they still want to bring back to our door, and we will keep them out despite the burning tears.

Never forget, never forgive, never again.

May God bless you all and keep you safe.....

JB2D out.