And the River Was Like Glass: A September 11th Remembrance

Life Goes On The river was perfectly still, like glass, early the morning of September 11th. I'd been home for a few days. My mother had begun to lose motor control of her right leg. We feared this meant the lung cancer for which she'd been treated in the spring had metastasized into her brain. Our day was already full. Despite the leg problem, Mom was hosting a luncheon for friends at noon. Afterwards other friends would join up for a presentation about one of her many craft passions, scrapbooking. We'd already had our first cup of tea when Dad turned on CNN to hear the morning news. The first plane – a small plane, they said at first – had just hit the World Trade Center. We sat down to learn more. In horror, we watched the second plane hit the South Tower, understanding, instantly, that these strikes were no accident. We sat, mesmerized, horrified, in tears. At 10, the first call came. "Is lunch still on?" I looked at my mom. Without hesitation