I was on the way home after driving my kids to school. I turned on the radio and heard that a small, private plane had hit one of the World Trade Center buildings. I was curious enough to keep listening, but not overly alarmed.
Then an announcer broke in and said that a second plane had struck the other building and that it appeared that they were airline planes. I thought it had to be some kind of terrorist act, and I drove home as fast as I could. I ran to the front door and threw it open to find J. in tears. We sat together in silence, watching the buildings burn but never dreaming they would fall. I was trying to figure out how they could get the people off the top floors.
Then one of the buildings crumbled and fell as we watched, horrified. We both leaned toward the television saying, "No, no, no. Oh no." When it was over we sat stunned and then we cried. And I said, "We just watched thousands of people die."
Something seemed familiar about my words. Then I remembered Obi-Wan Kenobi slumping in the ship and saying there had been a great disturbance in the force, like a million people cried out and then were silenced.
And then the second building fell, but I had used up all my shock so I just stared at the television, raging on the inside. Raging and impotent.
We stayed in front of the TV until that afternoon. Then I left so I could open up the church for our friends. They came in a steady stream after work to light candles, cry, pray, and be angry together. Some people couldn't pray, but only stared into the candles.
I was the last one to leave the church. It was dark except for the candles. I stood there watching them for a moment, then blew them out and went home.
rlp
4:42:39 PM 
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