September 11, 2001. Fabgrandpa and I had gone camping. I know we live in a travel trailer, but back then, when we were working in a campground and living on the property, we wanted to escape on our days off. We had a tent, sleeping bags, and all the camping supplies we needed to go camping away from the RV. Because we lived on the campground where we worked, if we didn’t leave on our days off, we didn’t really get a day off.
So, we had taken our tent and other camping supplies and headed out to a Georgia State Park in the North Georgia mountains. We had enjoyed our “weekend” by sleeping late, cooking out, trout fishing, and site-seeing for three days.
When we packed up camp and headed home, we stopped in a diner for breakfast. The staff at the diner had a small television on, and everyone was watching it. We had no idea what had happened. When our waitress told us about the attack on New York, I suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. We sat and watched the news coverage coming out of New York, and just couldn’t believe our ears and eyes.
It was just so unbelievable that something such as this could happen in the United States. The video of the plane hitting the second tower; of both the towers collapsing; of people running away from the ash storm was like a horror movie played on a loop over and over. And the stories and stories and stories of the people who had been lost still breaks my heart to think about.
Where were you on this day eleven years ago?