Eleven years

I can remember every single detail of that Tuesday morning as if it were yesterday. Eleven years ago I was living in an apartment *with Antz and our dog Maxwell* in West LA. I was getting ready for work, running late as usual when I got a phone call. Antz had already left for work, on time. I had a bad habit of leaving for work 5 minutes before I was supposed to be there but I was an assistant at E! Entertainment Television and in my early 20’s so I wasn’t the definition of responsibility. When the phone rang I was expecting either Antz telling me to hurry for work or my boss asking for her 3rd latte of the day, but it wasn’t either of them. That phone call was like an episode of the Twilight Zone, I heard a voice of an unfamiliar man so I assumed it was a telemarketer. It happened to be a guy named Brian from my department at work. He was telling me not to come in to work today and it immediately panicked me because I thought I was getting fired so I had a hard time comprehending what he was saying. He kept saying we are under attack and to stay home but I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I said “Brian, are you joking?” he sad in the most serious tone “No.” then he told me to turn on the news. Since that day I never watched the news before. I despise network news, nothing but bad news spoken by humans meant to resemble attractive robots. I didn’t even have to find a news channel because what I saw was on every channel. I saw the smoke, I saw the buildings on fire. I knew it was the World Trade Towers because just last December, I was there *unbeknownst to me to become engaged*. I was in New York with Anthony walking across the Brooklyn Bridge which at the time seemed like a dumb choice because it was unbearably cold and it took us an hour to cross the bridge but I am so happy we did because I was able to take this photo.

I dropped the phone and immediately called Antz on his cell phone. He told me his building was being evacuated and I told him to come home right away. I was hysterical, it felt like hours for Antz to come home and I kept imagining something happening to him. I couldn’t be alone. I called my friend Monica and she came over right away. We sat in shock and watched the horror unfolding that day. I was terrified something terrible was going to happen in LA. My heart was in my throat until Antz came home. I bitched him out for not coming home sooner. That day was my generation’s Pearl Harbor but the difference was it wasn’t military that was under attack but average working class people. 

9/11 affected me in a way that I can’t describe. It’s hard for me to continue writing because remembering that day makes me emotional. No one I knew personally passed away that day but I feel so much love for those people. It could have easily happened in LA. It could have easily been Antz on a plane traveling from Boston or New York for work. I feel so conflicted thinking about how much violence there is in the world and now I have Olivia to protect and keep from harms way. Yet, I can’t keep her in a box, I can’t always have my eyes on her. I have to allow her freedom to explore and experience life in this complicated world. One day I would like to take Olivia to the 9/11 Memorial Museum. I will have to find a way to explain to her why it happened. I have thought about it for eleven years and I still feel the same way, it’s hatred that murdered those people. Hatred in the name of religion or greed or revenge or justice or whatever. I have to tell my innocent daughter about hate and evil one day. I just have to keep faith that she will be safe. All I can do is love her and have faith.

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