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I don’t know what to write about today, the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks. But I feel like writing nothing and ignoring the date isn’t the right thing to do either. So I’ll just say this: For about five awful hours nine years ago, I couldn’t get my husband on the phone. He worked a few blocks from the towers, and when they fell, it looked on TV like all of downtown was gone. We were trying to call each other but cell service was completely out down there. I had no way of knowing that he was safe in the lobby of his office building. Eventually the dust settled enough that he left and made his way to a friend’s apartment and called me from a landline.
Those five hours aged me roughly five years. I cannot even imagine what it must be like for those relatives and friends who’ve been living it for nine long years. My hope is that today they can tune out the idiots and politicians and religious leaders who try to co-opt this day every year for their own gain. I hope they can reflect or pray or celebrate their loved one’s lives or just ignore the day entirely, whatever is right for them. I wish them peace.
Originally posted on Selfish Mom. All opinions expressed on this website come straight from Amy unless otherwise noted. Please visit Amy’s Full Disclosure page for more information. Amy also blogs at Filming In Brooklyn, Behind the Screen, and Momtourage.