Shhhh.

We all have our very personal version of today's story. 

Mine is mostly summed up like this:  9/11 was the loudest silence that I had ever heard.  

Ever.

People drove somewhere.  People herded out of public spaces and to be with loved ones.  Quietly.  Orderly.  Stunned silence.  Even the phone lines were silent to New York City.  In the morning, able to locate my mate, we spoke for a long while.  Rather, we were on the phone together for a long while.  I pulled up the news on my computer at work, he was thankfully home (he lived in Manhattan).  We merely spent the time together in the only way that we could.  Including when the first tower disintegrated, gravity recalling every accumulation of dust, bolt, blood and sweat put into creating such an amazing structure.  His reaction was again, silent, but for one expletive said softly, repeated once more.

Humanling is now 13 and couldn't give two pinto beans about what today is for.  They showed her a "boring" movie about it in school today.  What she doesn't realize is that while she was in school, I was working from home, with the minute by minute replay on MSNBC.  And you know this movie.  You know what the tough parts are and where they will be.  But still, can't help but watch.  Can't help but feel so sad for the President at the time, George Bush, who never seemed so little, frail and human as he did that morning.  

I lit a candle and worked.  Turned around here and there.  Cried.  Remembered. 

And remembered what came after.  I am grateful that I didn't lose anyone personally, but how can that possibly count?  Each person on this earth has energy that contributes to the whole.  So I lost a lot - we all did.  I just couldn't put my finger on it.  A beautiful reunion finally sealed itself official for me at this time.  There was a rainbow somewhere in the rubble.  

I am reminded that I wasn't chosen to leave that day.  My mate was planning a dinner for us at the top of one of the World Trade Centers, which would have taken place within a week of the attack.  I'm still here.  And have to remind myself that there are things still to be said, to be done.  There's a time to sit back and relax and that should always be somewhere in the day.  But perhaps indulgently following those wonderful words and actions.