"Where were you when you heard about Pearl Harbor?"
My grandparent's generation.
"Where were you when you heard President Kennedy was assassinated?"
My parents generation.
"Where were you on 9/11/2001?"
My generation.
Where was I? Home. I was starting our homeschool day when my husband called me and told me there was a terrible accident. I ran into the TV room. My 11 year old daughter was eating cereal and watching cartoons. I flicked the channel to the news. She protested for a second, then asked, "Did something happen?"
"Yes, something horrible happened. A plane..." I got that far before the second plane hit. We sat together on the sofa feeling helpless and terrified. We learned the Pentagon was on fire.
"Mom, doesn't Uncle Jay work there."
"Yes he does."
"Is Uncle Jay dead?"
She looked at me with her tear rimmed eyes. I wanted to tell Evelyn everything was OK. Jay worked in a different Pentagon somewhere safe. Somewhere far away.
"Mom? Is Uncle Jay dead?"
"I don't know."
My husband came home. The first thing he asked was, "Did Jay call?" I shook my head. Steve burst a blood vessel in his eye from the stress. We waited together feeling sick and frightened. It was a full 10 hours before we learned that Jay was safe. Too many others weren't. My heart still aches for their families. Years go by, but I still remember.
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