So that last entry seems rambling and horribly disjointed, but, oh well.
I don't know where eight years have gone, but they went. Sometimes, the actual memory what where I was, what I was thinking, what I was doing, what I was wearing seems dimmer. The heart at my knees, lungs in stomach, gut sick feeling however is very easy to recall.
It's also easy to recall that I was sitting on top of my desk in AP Government, appropriately talking about current events. It was actually our class who realized what was happened, and a girl ran to tell the principal to turn on the classroom TV's. I'll always remember my AP Gov teacher, who I never really liked, tossing me a quarter when he saw the color drain from my face, and telling me to call my parents to see where my brother was. He was safe, but close friends at the Pentagon weren't. They were dead.
The gut sick feeling came from when the second tower collapsed, along with the girl standing next to me. She knew her father was in that tower, and she knew she had just watched him die.
I was driving my dad's car, with Army National Guard plates. People were beeping and waving at me the whole way home, rolling their windows down to wish me and mine luck and safety. I passed it all on to my military family members.
It's funny what things trigger these feelings and memories now; a quarter gliding through the air; an airport; an airplane overhead; license plates; any mention of high school.
Remembering; thinking; praying.
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