It was a beautiful fall day. The sky was a clear blue with hardly a cloud anywhere. I wished everything was as cheerful as the morning appeared to be, but unfortunately I was on my way to the hospital with more complications from being in the family way again.
We had dropped Sailor of at my parents until we got back. As we were driving along we noticed a big plume of smoke ahead of us. LV and the driver commented on it a bit but I was too wrapped up in why we were on the road to begin with to worry about why anyone had decided to light a big bonfire.
Once we got to the hospital we had to wait a long time while everything else seemed to be in utter chaos. Finally when the doctor was ready to see me she told us that everyone had been on standby to take care of any survivors from a plane that had crashed nearby. Unfortunately there had been no survivors.
After being told to go home and stay in bed for a while we left. Driving home was a sober, almost fearful feeling as we listened to all the latest news regarding the attacks in New York City and D.C. and that everyone was thinking that Flight 93, that sudden plume of smoke we had seen was connected.
We of-course found out that it was indeed connected and the following days there seemed to be a sense of dread hanging over the entire community. The ministers would warn of bad days to come in their sermons and were sure that young men and boys would soon be called into a draft. They had their own theories on how they would probably be screened to see if they would be eligible for C.O. status. Basically using this as another handle of control which seemed to work considering all the church confessions that were being made.
Life got back to normal for us before long, but everytime we would pass that field where Flight 93 went down we were reminded that for some people life would never be the same again and all we could do was hope that somehow they could find comfort and healing.