Everyone has their story of that.day. We all, all of us, remember exactly where we were, what the weather was like, what we saw.
I can recall that day in my mind.
With a vividness like bright snapshots against a black sky.
Except the sky that.day was bright blue.
The sun shone that.day like no other.
In mere seconds as I glanced at my muted television of what I thought was a preview for Will Smith's next blockbuster...
The sun that shone so beautifully went away for so many.
Too, too many.
I called my husband at work and after a brief conversation about the shock of all that was happening, we sat on each end of the phone hearing each other breathe, watching the unspeakable happen over and over on the television.
I went to work as a receptionist at a hair salon.
And though many cancelled, a few still came in to get their hair done. An escape for some I suppose. Voices were mere whispers. Even the usual obnoxious racquet of the blow dryers seemed subdued.
My insides were shaken. My mind numb.
It just could not wrap around the events of evil transpiring in a city I visited and fell in love with 7 years ago.
Atrocities like that. They only happen in movies.
Just like I tell my boys...monsters aren't real. They don't actually exist.
That's a lie.
I haven't turned the tv on in a week. Actually, that's not entirely true. It's just been turned to the boys Treehouse channel.
Innocent. Bright. Cheery.
I can't bear the thought of hearing the stories, seeing the footage. In ten years I have yet to watch it unfold before me again.
I know that there will come a day when I will have to explain to my boys about that day.
But until then I'll continue to watch Scooby Doo with them...where the monsters aren't real and mysteries are always solved in 30 minutes.
Holding them close feeling grateful yet full of sorrow as my heart mourns all that we lost and those that lost.
Too, too much.