Luke and I were living in GA with his mom. It was a very, very difficult time for his family and for us. Everyone was out of the house, my MIL was at work, Haley and Graham at school and Luke in the fields (they have a farm in GA). I was sitting in the recliner in the living room with our puppies, Kiki and Herschel. I was watching "Today" already. I cannot for the life of me remember what they were talking about before they showed the first plane hit the tower. I was confused and not aware right away that this was in NYC. As I continued to watch and listen, I began to panic. The news people were unable to keep their composure and it frightened me.
I thought of my family in LA. My father, grandparents, uncle, etc all travel a lot for business and I was out of the loop. I had no idea where everybody was. I called my family's business and was told that my mom was not their and I immediately called her cell phone. She was driving to New Orleans for a doctor's appointment. I asked her where everyone was and she told me that everyone was OK. I was fine after that. Kinda. I wanted my mommy. I wanted (not for the first or last) to be HOME.
Luke came in eventually to see the news footage having heard from people in town what was going on in NYC. We both sat, stunned, starring at the tv. Of course I don't think I stopped crying for days. I went to the little church down the street that night. Everything was so surreal. I was frightened, depressed and homesick. I went to sleep crying and woke up with wet cheeks. I watched too much news and couldn't tear myself away from the people's stories of loss.
I felt helpless. I felt angry. I felt vulnerable. I felt empty. I felt lucky. I felt alone. I felt American.