9/11 Should We Always Remember?

Ten years ago, my little sister lived on Waterstreet in lower Manhattan. She was an undergraduate student at New York University. Instead of running away, she ran toward Battery Park to find her friend.





She ran toward the towers.






My little sister saw unspeakable things.







She ran into a NYC lobby, seeking shelter from the wall of dust from a collapsing building. We got a 60 second phone call - she was alright, but the line to use the phone was long.
She had found her friend.
They were trying to take the ferry.
She would call later.







And then there was the waiting...
Where was my sister?
...and the waiting...
What had happened to her?
...and the waiting...






My mom was glued to the television, hoping that she would see her on tv. Hoping that she wouldn't see her on tv.
Looking.
Hoping.





The ringer broke the silence.
My mom lunged for the phone, grabbing it like a lifeline.
Like it would save her.
Like it would save my sister.






She was on Liberty Island.
She was safe.
She was not coming home.






What?!






I'm staying here.
I am directing traffic.
There are doctors and nurses and help...and no one knows where to go.
I am helping.






My mom stared at the phone.
We could hear helicopters.
We could hear the newscasters.
We could hear a pin drop.
Our house was silent.






She was helping.
She wasn't coming home.
She was staying.







A deep breathe.
And then another one.
And then maybe a few more.







Two weeks ago, Tropical Storm Irene hit Vermont.
My sister called.
She called every day.






She was helping.






I have never been as proud of my sister as I was on this day, ten years ago.
She stayed.
She helped.
She will never forget.






May You Find the Spirit of the Mountains Within You,
FemaleSkiBum :)

Location:Killington Peak, VT