Telaina Eriksen recalls the surreal, backwards feeling that many of us felt on 9/11.
—
Counter Clockwise
The cashier at Meijer was listless, shocked. She scanned my milk, eggs,
bread. “My son is stationed at Fort Carson in Colorado.
This can’t be good, can it?” I assured her it wasn’t. “Killing is too good for
some people,” she responded.
Parents stood in knotted, whispering groups, everything else forgotten,
indoctrinated into a new reality. I dropped my daughter off at school.
“They showed all the firefighters and police officers going in. They
must still be in there.” I called my husband at work.
I dropped to my knees. NBC showed live footage of the
Back to the Pentagon. Back to the frazzled news anchors.
The footage of the planes striking again and again.
I turned on the Today Show.
I’m sure we were watching Nickelodeon when the
first plane struck the first tower. My son was a toddler.
My daughter had dressed herself in purple sweatpants and a short-sleeved white top,
all ready for afternoon kindergarten.
My mother-in-law called me and told me to turn on the news.
***
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