This morning Hubs and I got up, and we talked about where we were ten years ago today.
We were in Denver, Colorado. We had gone with our darling friends, Brian and Sarah, to the VERY! FIRST! game ever played at Invesco Field, and we watched those Broncos play some ball.
Or rather, Hubs and Brian and Sarah watched the Broncos play, while I quickly made friends with the people around me and talked their ears off and showed them all the crazy antics of my one-year-old son, who was dressed in his very own Bronco jersey. We all had enormous Polish dogs, and we all told Hubs to just GO DOWNWIND with all that sauerkraut he’d piled onto his dinner. The boys had enormous, dark beers, and we all marveled at the fact that we were sitting with 76,000 other people.
It was Monday, September 10th.
We had ENORMOUS plans to shop, shop, SHOP the following day, as Sarah and I had a list and itinerary mapped out in great detail, because we both suffer from CDO, which is exactly like OCD, only the letters are all lined up alphabetically, just as they should be. Our itinerary even included a nap for the one-year-old boy.
Hubs and I woke up in a motel room early that Tuesday morning of September 11th, and we let our very tiny boy jump on the bed, because it wasn’t OUR bed, and because he barely weighed twenty pounds, and because jumping made him giggle hysterically. He jumped, and Hubs and I marveled at how perfect life was, and then I hopped in the shower, because of SHOPPING DAY!
And, from the shower, I heard Hubs yell to GET OUT! JUST GET OUT! GET OUT OF THE SHOWER AND COME SEE!
He had turned on the TV, people. We sat on the end of the bed, as the boy crawled around on the floor, and we watched Plane #2 slam into the Twin Towers, and then we watched them fall to the ground, and I bawled and bawled and began praying for my good friend, Carrey, who lived in New York City.
We didn’t shop that day. We drove home to Small Town in silence, listening to the radio and checking in on our cell phones with family. I was able to get a call through to Carrey’s mom, and we learned that she was fine; she was scared silly, but fine. We ached for the families who SIMPLY COULDN’T check in with one another that day, and we barely spoke the words out loud: We had been in a stadium with 76,000 people in it just the night before, and the entire football game had been televised around America. As far as a target spot went, that football game that night seemed like prime ground.
We were thankful to still be driving home.
And now, ten years later, we have an eleven-year-old boy who is entirely too big to jump on beds. Sarah and I both still make lists, and Hubs still eats sauerkraut at ballparks, because I can barely stand the stench of it, and because I cannot cook it in my house without a dramatic Gone With the Wind faint.
Some things have changed so much in ten years. Some things haven’t changed at all.
And, ten years later, we’ve had one great weekend, but it just doesn’t seem like the right time to share all of our adventures over the last three days.
What does seem appropriate is that Hubs and I simply say that we fully tip our hats with an enormous THANK YOU to all of our firemen, our policemen, and every member in every branch of our military.