What was I doing the night of September 10, 2001? I wish I could remember. I was probably grading papers. Or maybe cleaning my little two bedroom apartment and tending to my nine month old baby. How was I to know that this would be the night before America changed? When a sense of innocence was lost? I would like to think that if I had known, I would have marked the time in a more memorable time. Perhaps I would have spent the time writing in my journal. Maybe I would have started a journal. If I was grading papers, I probably would have set them aside and rocked my little boy to sleep. It is possible my husband and I would have taken Ethan on a walk, enjoying our time together. When presented with that idea, that possibility -- it's the night before -- there is a sense of urgency to enjoy all there is. Because surely, if we had known what we would have woken up to the next day we would have appreciated all we could have that night.
We probably all remember where we were on that day. September 11, 2001, the day America lost a little bit of itself. Jonathan and I had woken up late for work, we hurried to get ready and ran out the door, not even listening to the car radio. It wasn't even until I had gotten to school when I was met at my classroom by my t.a. who said the words, "Mrs. Lawrence, can you believe it?" I had to admit I didn't know what he was talking about it. He was astounded, and it was this little seventh grade boy who had to break the news to me that a plane had just hit a building in New York City. We had no idea what was going on, but could only watch the news, all of us -- my whole class. And when my sixth graders looked at me, their teacher, for answers, and I had to tell them I didn't know what any of the madness meant. For the first time I knew what true helplessness meant.
We didn't realize that the next morning could come, that September 12th could even have the audacity to show up, but it did. And with it came the chance for our country to reshape itself. It was hard, and it was painful. And we mourned. And we grieved. We are still grieving. We didn't know if it was okay to be angry, or to feel vengeful, or to want to hide. But somehow, we managed to take our flags out again, to set them up, to dust them off. We remembered, for a time, what we were made of. We are made of a flurry of feelings, both simple and complex, and that is what is America. We are not a melting pot, or a salad, or any other comparison that mixes or composites. We are a people. A nation. Both a noun as America and an adjective as American. And we are one.
Currently, we might feel exhausted. Maybe even torn. But we are America. And we can't experience the Morning After until we think back on the Night Before. If we could go back to the night before -- the night before the madness; the night before we became accusatory; the night before we became suspicious, or listened to commentary before news, or became closed-minded -- what would we do? Would we set aside our work to play with our kids? Take that walk with our family? Appreciate the small things? Would we do all those things so we could get through the Day Of until we could set our flags out again on the Morning After?
Or, do we on this Night Before simply promise in our hearts to never forget what happened on the Day Of September 11, 2001, so that we can better appreciate the Morning After, and that we still have one together as a nation.
You're welcome.
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