Telaina Eriksen recalls the surreal, backwards feeling that many of us felt on 9/11.
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
Towers falling. Back to NYC. Back to the field in Pennsylvania.
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.
Read more of Telaina Eriksen’s poetry.
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Photo by Jackie /Flickr