In early September 2001, my work needed me to go to MA to check on an acquisition they were making. I didn’t want to go. I can’t really remember why, there was something going on at home (school starting? Macdougal’s birthday?) that I didn’t want to miss. I made it as difficult as possible for them, refusing to fly from SD because it wasn’t a direct flight. So I was booked from LA. But I still wasn’t happy and complained daily. Finally, a week or so before I was to leave my boss succumbed to my annoying harping and postponed the trip by two weeks.
The morning of 9/11 I could not go back to sleep after Mr. Vixen left for work at 5am, so I was watching live when the second plane crashed. It was overwhelmingly devastating. I am really an old softy and can be quite sensitive. I just sat on the couch, unable to move away from the screen. Until the kids woke up and came to see why I didn’t wake them for school. That distracted me. They had questions. They had fears. I had to take care of them.
As I walked into work, the TV was in the front hall and everyone was standing around it. My coworker ran up to me and hugged me. She wanted me to pray with her. As she prayed, she thanked God that I had made such a fuss about not going to Boston. I stopped her. “What are you talking about?” She went over to her desk (she did all the travel arrangements) and pulled out my itinerary. I had been booked to return home on this day, on United Airlines Flight 175, the very plane I had watched fly into the tower just hours before. I sat at my desk, grateful and shocked. My phone rang and it was my mother. She was crying and saying “that was your flight.”
I know I can only imagine the pain and suffering of the families of all the victims on that day. I feel their loss so personally. It hurts my heart to imagine their life without their loved ones. I will always remember.