12 years ago, about this time, I was lying in bed, listening to the airplanes.
It wasn't the sound of large airliners slowing their descent into Logan airport, as I usually heard at this time of night. No, it was the fast whine of fighter jets. War planes. They were patrolling the East coast, in the hopes of preventing further attacks on our country. The airliners had been grounded hours earlier, after 4 planes were hijacked, and thousands were killed.
I remember lying there in the dark, wondering what would happen. Were we at war? Would we be going to war? Was Boston the next target? And who was targeting us? How do you deal with the idea of your loved ones being vaporized when an airplane loaded with fuel slammed into their workplace? How would the survivors move on?
I prayed. I cried. I think we all did that night, even people who weren't prayers or criers.
So I stop to remember.
How can any of us forget?