Five years ago today, I woke up thinking the worst thing I'd be experiencing was holding my husband's hand while he had a bone marrow biopsy. It would be his first since starting Gleevec, the miraculous drug that has put his leukemia in remission. BMBs are painful, but necessary. I was glad I could be there to hold his hand.
It was a beautiful day, here too. I drove to the KU Medical Center to meet him and was blaring my Spike Jones tape out the window. A man walking his dog, looked at me all annoyed.
My husband met me at the entrance to the medical center and said, "There's been an attack!" I thought to myself, what, the Israelis and the Palestinians are at it again?
He told me, no, the World Trade Center, and we walked hand in hand to the waiting room, where we sat glued to the TV there. That he even had the BMB was surprising. And then we both went to work.
From work (at the time I was a synagogue librarian), employees speculated about the need to get gas now, people called their children's schools to see if they should take them home. I left early, glad my tank was full and went up to my son's school. The principal was accomodating those who wanted to take their kids home. I decided to leave him there for the rest of the day.
Make things seem as normal as possible.
That's all I'll say.
Except for, no I do not feel any safer. I felt safer in the couple of days following the attacks when you knew that the person driving in the car next to you was thinking what you were thinking. When you knew a traffic jam was because we were all stopping to put something in a firefighter's boot or helmet.