I sat in my 96’ Camry enjoying the heat of the day and watching the planes go by. I wondered what I would have done if it had been me. Would I have prayed to a God I’ve never really prayed to before? Would I have played hero and been a martyr in the following aftermath and in pages of history? Would I have screamed and cried frantically until the approaching end? Would I have called my family to bid them farewell and I love you? Would I have sat quietly in shock helpless in the face of death? I couldn’t honestly say, and to this day, I am still unable to fully wrap my mind around the magnitude of such a preplanned tragedy, much less the mindset, confusion and fear of those who were fatally involved.
Not even the Tetons could shield me from the insanity of my homeland reality.
My lungs feel stronger than usual today. They breathe on their own, the air smells clear as my lungs miraculously heal.
These people I’ve known throughout my life, strangers I’ve cared for, worried over and laughed with. Familiar faces I’ve never met with families similar to mine. Memories, dreams, reactions similar to mine. Conquer strength in a twist of fate, I can’t understand. My stomach is in knots trying to understand. But these people gathered to stand against fate and its planned agenda, horror, anger, fear — nothing I can understand from here. My shoes fall back, I’ll always remember but I’ll never know what it must have felt like to be a doomed hero.