Remembering

I was home the morning of September 11th. Sick.

I remember getting up that morning to an empty house, making myself a peanut butter and jam toast with a glass of milk. I turned on the Today Show just long enough to eat and take my pills. It took at least 2 or 3 minutes of staring at the TV to realize what I was watching. I changed the channel, and realized that whatever was going on was real, and it was pretty big. As I started focusing on what the TV was saying my dad walked in. He was on his way to work, I believe, and turned back around. We watched for quite some time before either of us said anything. My mom called home shortly afterwards from the hospital to ask if I was up and if I knew what had happened.

The next few days consisted of waking and sleeping on the couch, with the constant glare of the TV. Because I was on some pretty heavy-duty pain killers, any sleep that came to me was accompanied with strange and vivid nightmares.

I left for the Missionary Trainging Center 3 weeks later, on Oct 3rd. I remember anytime I was out of the house between the 11th and when I left, I saw flags. Our flag was everywhere. On every business, every home, cars passing by, and peoples apparel. I liked seeing the flag displayed so often.

The next thought I wanted to share happened 5 months later. Salt Lake City was hosting the Olympics. I was in my second area on my mission and our Mission President gave the missionaries permission to watch the opening ceremonies at a members home. I was sitting in the Siulua's home with my companion and the elders, and most of their large family. I was excited to see images of Utah and wondered if I would feel homesick -something I hadn't really felt up until that point.

What I did feel surprised me a little. It wasn't the images of the mountains and valleys and temple that caused emotion, it was the moment when public figures in our society brought out the dirty and tattered American Flag which had flown at Ground Zero. I explained to the other people in the room (none were Americans) that you never saw tattered and dirty flags. They would be taken down and destroyed and a new one hung its place before anyone would really see it. It was quite emotional and moving for me to see that flag.

The third and final thought... (I think I'm starting to ramble) was the feeling I had when I visited Manhattan a few years ago for the first time. It wasn't what I expected, but in some small way it was much more. I hated seeing the street peddlers trying to make a buck selling old photographs, and I wasn't really amused by the preachers warning of fire and brimstone. I was surprised at how much like a construction site it looked like. Because, that's what it is now.

But... I suppose it signifies rebuilding, healing, and moving forward. Which is what we have to do in our everyday lives when tragedy strikes.I was surprised at the personal sentiments displayed on the construction walls. Statements like, "I miss you dad" and "God Bless New York" seemed to express the loss and determination that the community and nation has to rebuild and move forward.