The Other Homesick

I woke up this morning missing New York terribly. I've been having a rough week. Lots of pressure at work, bad sleep, and relationship "junk" have left me an emotional wreck. Standing in my kitchen contemplating breakfast, I got the strongest longing for one of those crisp Fall days that I'd spend walking around my old Upper West Side neighborhood - making my way down to Riverside Drive and then back over to Central Park. I missed the feeling of just being, of having the courage to enjoy life as it was while still having a whole world of possibilities in front of me. I missed that brave girl that seems so far away. And I was sad.

And then I realized that it's September 11th.

I was living in New York on 9/11/2001. I don't talk about it much - not because it's difficult, mainly because I think "near miss" stories are really annoying. However, I hold the memories of that day sacred and believe the experience shaped me. And living through the aftermath sealed the deal that New York will always hold a piece of my heart.

Since I'm emotional as it is today, I thought I'd share with you my story. Perhaps sifting through the memories will help me feel more connected.

I had just begun my second week of classes as a sophomore at NYU. My 8:00AM lecture let out at 9:15, and spit me onto W 4th St. I noticed people lining the sidewalks, thinking they were waiting for some ticket release that I didn't know about. But then I realized they were all looking up. I followed their gazes and saw the World Trade Center, just a mile from where I was standing, billowing clouds of smoke. I asked the man standing next to me what happened. He said, "A plane hit the tower...actually, two planes hit both towers." I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying, but then I heard the word 'terrorist' and my heart started racing. People had pulled their cars up to the curb and opened their doors so everyone could hear the radio reports. I grabbed a camera from my bag and took a couple of photos (which I actually felt guilty about for a long time.)

Then I turned and ran back to my dorm room. My roommates were there standing around the TV. I immediately called home and was on the phone with my mom when the first tower fell. I was glad to have gotten to speak to her then, because the phones were down for much of the day. One by one, other students from our floor made their way into our room. We all just sat there together, staring at the TV in disbelief.

Around 2:00, we headed outside. It was shocking. All of the pictures we kept seeing on the TV were right in front of us. The air was thick with smoke. People covered in ash were emerging from downtown. Restaurants had opened their doors and set out chairs, water, and juice for those making their long treks home on foot.

I remember being surprised at how this horrible event brought us all together. There are a lot of people living in New York, and that day we all felt connected. They closed all of the bridges and tunnels so no one was allowed in or out of Manhattan. I remember hearing reporters say, "Today Manhattan is truly an island." We were alone, yet all together.

There were long lines at the grocery stores, ATMs, phone booths - and everyone just stood quietly and patiently. You could reach out to a complete stranger and squeeze their hand and it'd be ok. We all looked at each other with the same look - a combination of disbelief, shock, horror, and deep sadness.

We made our way to a nearby hospital where they were collecting blood. The sidewalks in front of the building were full of stretchers and wheelchairs...but they were all empty. Doctors and nurses were lined up in their scrubs, waiting for someone they could help.  The other side of the building was crowded with people signing up to donate blood. When we arrived they were already making appointments for midnight and 1am. Before we even made it to the front of the line they were turning people away, saying they were booked up.

That first day was a shock, to say the least, but the next few days were so hard. Our daily lives looked nothing like we were used to, and it was difficult to imagine ever getting back to normal. Schools and businesses were closed. Traffic was not allowed below 14th St....I lived on 11th, so that included me. Walking outside was surreal. It was quiet. No cars. Ash and debris everywhere. And a burning smoke was in the air. To this day whenever I smell a building fire, I'm immediately brought back to that week. The air burned your nose when you breathed it in. We were encouraged to where masks while we were outside.

I dug out my 9/11 memory box today. I'm not sure if I've ever looked through it since I packed it up, so I wasn't sure what I'd find. It feels a little weird to have collected some of these things, but I think it's important to remember events like this.

Of course there were newspapers and magazines.

We also bought little trinkets and postcards that still depicted the towers.

I found a copy of my high school's newspaper, where they printed a letter I had written about my experience, as well as several editions of NYUs paper, where they covered the events as well as how they affected students.

You saw the mask above and some of the pictures. I had 8 photos from the 11th & 12th.  The 2 from that morning of the WTC, 2 from that evening that showed how smokey it was, 2 of the eerily empty streets of the following day, and 2 under the arch in Washington Square Park, where we used to see the towers.

I think the photos are the hardest to digest. We've all seen the images so many times...but when I hold those photos in my hands I remember that I was right there taking those pictures. It seems so far away, so unreal.

I would like to say thank you to all the men and women who serve in the armed forces to protect this country and our freedoms. And also to all of the police officers and firefighters who put their lives on the line to keep us safe. I hope it is never forgotten what you do for us.