Quiet, 911

My mother never let me watch television or read a newspaper growing up. We owned an old black and white model that I hid under my bed. The static was terrible during the day, so I had to watch it during the night. I was in my late teens before I actually saw a news show. It was about the Oklahoma City bombings. I remember it making me sad. All those little children were killed for a reason that was beyond me. I can only assume that my mother shielded me from those things growing up.
We would always read books to each other. The words combined into stories, and they fueled my brother’s imagination to terrorize me. We relived these stories each night as we pretended to be the hero driven to save the city from imminent destruction by the horrible villain. That is where my idea of celebrity came from. The heroine of a story of learns courage in the face of self-doubt.
The heroes of 9/11 are etched into the collective conscience of the United States. Each gave something of themselves to save another human being. To the survivors, the guilt and remorse have been a tough fight. The dead, in their sleep, are loved and missed by many. The heroes came in all shapes and sizes. They came from all walks of life. They each had something to give.
I remember the eerie quiet that settled over our part of the world. People would go quietly, lost in thought, to their daily business. Those lined up to give blood, food, clothing and medical supplies never said a word. They would solemnly nod to one another or touch each other on the shoulder. It was like words left the world.
These quiet, heartbroken and grieving people put their shoulders into the wind and kept on moving. Day after day they woke up and went to work to keep this country going. That is the goal they had. The sadness is still here, but they truly have never forgotten.
J. Davies

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