# On September 10th

I can't say I don't think about this every year because I do, but because it's the 10th anniversary of 9/11 everyone is talking even more. I have a lot on my mind, because like many people 9/11 changed my life. #OnSeptember10th is the twitter list that NPR posted today; they wanted to know what everyone was doing the day before September 11th, the day before life changed. For me, on that day, I already knew something was wrong.

On September 10th, 2001 I was a 2nd (or 3rd) time around college student taking my second semester at Loyola University New Orleans. Life to that point had been an adventure but wasn't spectacular. I was in New Orleans on my first round of do-overs. I was trying to make something right that had gone so very wrong before. Anyone who knows me, will probably be able to remember I dabbled in Tarot cards, at one point I probably proclaimed myself psychic... but I think from the perspective of time I'd have to say I'm just more sensitive to the world. I always knew my 'gut feelings' which I was so willing to chase weren't always from my directive, but from a higher power. When I faltered it was my own doing, my own ignorance or stubbornness, not to follow those feelings. But the night of September 10th my world was already ending and it was all because of those 'gut feelings.'

I started cleaning my tiny colorful apartment around 10:30PM. It was a great place; cozy and right in the middle of a neighborhood surrounded by the Audubon Zoo, Loyola/Tulane, some great shopping and a graveyard. I can't say things weren't already tweaking my intuition in that apartment because it was a strange trip for sure. I was immersed in New Orleans culture and hiding from it at the same time. But after I started cleaning that night and I couldn't stop. Midnight came around and I just felt like everything was wrong in the world. I scrubbed more, I vacuumed, I washed and was slowly collapsing into tears. By 2 AM I was sobbing deeply and I felt like I had lost my mind. I had no reason to cry. I had no reason to pursue cleaning like Lady Macbeth scrubbing out spots no one can see. I worried that there was really something wrong with me, I was crazy... I had to be crazy.

Finally around 4AM I gave up and went to sleep. I had a class the next morning, I couldn't keep cleaning the same tiny 500 square feet over and over again.

I woke up after 8. One of the towers had already been hit and I sat on my bed watching the TV. It was on every station except PBS which was playing children's cartoons as the only safe haven for parents who didn't want their children to see what was happening. I think I drank coffee, surely I did. I don't remember if I saw the second tower get hit, but I remember as the clock ticked away and the confused reporters slowly started to understand what was happening that my night of madness was the only thing that made sense. I hadn't lost my mind... the world had. I was angry. What use was intuition if I FELT it but couldn't do anything about it. I vowed that day and the next, and many after that I would reject that kind of intuition that left me helpless to save anyone but gave me all the suffering.

I watched the television as the towers collapsed. At some point I got ready for class; it hadn't been cancelled. Everyone was still trying to go on with their day. Of course the teacher was late though, everyone was late, everyone was dazed. I sat by a stone wall waiting, making a list of all my friends that I had lost contact with. People I needed to call.

Where was everyone? Were they okay?

One girl asked if I knew anyone in New York and all I could say was "I don't know."
I don't remember the class. I think I remember my teacher saying something about Americans not understanding what terrorism was and how in Britain they just had to keep going. He was from Britain, maybe he grew up under IRA threat... but I came home after class and watched the TV some more. I saw President Bush in a stadium full of people. The cameras cut to a woman wearing an "I <3 New York" shirt and then back to Bush who declared we would get Saddam Hussein because surely he had done this. I wondered how he knew that. I panicked a little at the implication of that statement. No one else remembers he even said that.

Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep. I must have called my family. I think I found everyone I was looking for. Nothing else is clear.

10 years is a long time in memories.

Five days after the planes flew into the towers, I was in a Yahoo Psychic chat room (kind of my normal internet hangout). No one talked about the attack. I think everyone already wanted to move on. It was very late at night when LordGolo entered the nearly empty chat room and I started talking to him. That gut instinct kicked in and I KNEW without any doubt I was going to meet him face to face one day. It was only a couple of days after his birthday. We talked a little about what was happening in DC, what he knew about the Pentagon, but mostly we got to know each other. We were both done, we had both decided we didn't want to "date." I think many people were tired of bouncing around through life after 9/11. We spent 2 months talking before he came to visit me in New Orleans.

I was a wanna be punk wearing rose colored glasses (literally and maybe figuratively); he was an angsty gentleman who thought a black wool pea coat was appropriate winter wear in New Orleans. I still remember making eye contact with him as he reached for his guitar at baggage claim. He kissed me as he'd promised once we got to my car. I don't think I was ready to marry; I just knew I was done mucking around in life.

I guess we fast forward 10 years now. I married him a year later in Boyds, MD and we're celebrating our 9 year anniversary in just a couple of weeks. Neither of us are so young and impetuous anymore. I think whether we like it or not we are part of the aftermath. The week our world changed we were all seeking, and I found him. I married the man I love and had two beautiful children with him; children who have no idea what that day means.

I have to admit, being the stupid sensitive soul I am... that I can't help but tear up over it still. That I found love, marriage, and children, when so many other lost their loves, their lives, and their families just doesn't seem right. Yet, there is a balance in it. What was taken away, moved on and gave new life.

It's ironic that I share my story when I'm so mad at the media for forcing this day on everyone. Yahoo has a 9/11 tab on their page. Fox News, which I've seen in my supervisor's office, hasn't had one bit of 'news...' just furor and gut wrenching emotional stories about that day. There are people posting the pledge of allegiance & 9/11 remembrance photos; all I want to do is find the sincerity in it all. That's hard with constant media coverage and social networking reposts.

I know we are all still trying to make sense of it, or just figure out how we're supposed to talk about it.We all want to share, just like the stories my mother's generation tells about the day Kennedy was shot. Some of our efforts are over the top, some of us just want to move on. But regardless the desire to share or ignore, we have all changed. I really do ache for those that have lost and I pray for their healing. If there is a lesson in all this, it's that no one won after 9/11... things just changed. And, I am thankful that my change gave me a family.