It Was

It is cooler this morning but the sky is exactly the same as it was that day.
I had handed Tim a stack of late invitations to our daughter's wedding to be mailed from work(anyone who lives in my neighborhood knows it has the worst post office in the city) The Trade Center had its own zip code and a fairly high percentage of employees who read and spoke English. They processed a huge volume of mail daily and they did so fairly well. I had to rush off to school that morning because I needed to straighten out some problems with a big order of toner cartridges. A lack of toner can provoke life and death reactions early in September.
I distinctly remember registering the beauty of that morning and enjoying it because I knew it was not going to be an easy season. Tim had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer. In between after school appointments to taste potential wedding cakes and have wedding clothes altered, I would be meeting him at various doctor's offices throughout Manhattan to listen to the merits of radiation versus surgery, surgery versus radiation. This was the start of my 20th year at my school we had a new head for the first time. How would that go? (another story)
In my computer lab I was simultaneously on the phone with my toner vendor and checking e-mails when the school custodian came in to ask me if I had an antenna for the TV in the library. I remember feeling very annoyed with him. Couldn't he see I was busy? What the hell did he need to watch on TV anyway? It wasn't yet 9:00 AM. He didn't want to tell me but he did. He knew where my husband worked. A plane had hit the Trade Center.
The rest of the morning is a blur in my memory. A kind of static-y numb steeliness took over. I went directly home watching the huge plume of black smoke take over the sky. The housekeeper was there and I sent her home. I didn't want anyone around me except the one person who wasn't there. The phone eventually stopped working but until it did, it rang and rang, our daughter at work at 200 Park, crying uncontrollably. Our son, from the midwest where he was beginning law school, The brothers, sisters, relatives, friends. I had no information for them except what the television was showing us all – that the first plane had hit awfully close to the 88th floor where Tim's corner office had a most breathtaking view north and west.
I'm not sure what time it was. I heard his voice out on the sidewalk and ran to the door. Neighbors were out on the street crying and hugging. The invitations were still in his bag.