Significant days and events are sprinkled through our lives. Some are highly personal. I remember the morning my brother was born; the green-eyed monster was sitting on my shoulder and I was not convinced a baby brother was a good idea. I remember my first day of college, my excitement and nervous anticipation for a new adventure. I remember my fortieth birthday party when I enthusiastically embraced the new decade.
There are also monumental world and national events. My parents have clear recollections of the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Americans share a proud memory of the summer night we sat spellbound watching grainy black and white images of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walking on the moon. After waiting for 86 long years, Red Sox fans will forever remember the joy of winning the World Series.
And then there is September 11th.
I was in Tokyo. It was already evening when I landed at Narita Airport and with the time difference, only minutes before the first plane hit the World Trade Center. But it was several hours before I learned of the horrible events in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. After the long trip from the airport into the city and a business dinner, I was finally able to call it a day and escape to my hotel room. It was late, I was jet lagged and exhausted.
I turned on CNN for background noise while I unpacked and got ready for bed. Watching the news, I was shocked and horrified. I barely slept; instead like millions around the world, I was riveted to the television for most of the night. Up on the thirty-something floor of one of those big, impersonal hotels, thousands of miles from home, I felt terribly alone. There was a hollow, empty feeling in my chest.
I was a few days into a two week business trip. My colleagues did not hesitate to tell me that I could certainly cut my trip short and return home. US airports were locked down so jumping on a plane and heading home was not an option. Work became a distraction. I met with customers and discussed IT strategy. I consulted with our local sales and marketing teams. All the while I could not help but feel an overwhelming sadness, a hollowness and a bit shell shocked.
When the airports reopened, I flew home to my little cottage in sunny California. It was good to be out of big hotels and in my own house, surrounded by greenery instead of concrete. However, I had been living in California for less than a year and it didn’t really feel like home.
The initial shock started to dissipate but within a week I knew that if I wanted to feel normal again I needed to hug a kid. Not just any kid, it was time to spend time with family.
I headed to New Hampshire for the long Columbus Day weekend. The leaves were changing color and the sun shone. I joined my family for walks down to the lake and hikes in the hills. We lingered around the table over leisurely dinners and long conversations. My nephews were big, gangling teenagers and indulged their auntie with hugs at arrival and departure. My then tiny nieces were happy to share lots of hugs throughout the weekend. The hollow in my chest began to fill. Thanks to the boys and little girls, I started to feel normal again.
On this weekend of remembrance, I hope that you too find normalcy, peace and yes even pleasure in everyday, ordinary events, time with family and friends and lots of hugs.
What about you? How did you heal and recover after September 11th? Feel free to share your thoughts and add a comment.
© Susan W. Nye, 2011
No recipes today but you can find many Comfort Food recipes on the blog.
You can also find my article Ten Years Later – Remembering September 11th in New Hampshire Magazine.