September 11 & Moving Day Part I
It's late, and I can't sleep. I was going to pull out the ol' journal but I thought I should probably try and make this whole blog thing a habit. Every other time has been a complete failure - a couple of posts and then I forget about it. Somewhere out there are probably three or four failed attempts, saved on some server for all eternity.
A significant day, to be sure. Hard to believe it's been five years since that awful day. I was over with John & John & Gail tonight, and we were talking about it. I can remember it very clearly - the night of the 10th it rained like crazy and the last game of the Red Sox-Yankees series was postponed. I stayed at the Radisson in Cambridge that night, and checked in behind a flight attendant. I always wondered if she was on one of the doomed flights the next morning. That night I had the strangest and most disturbing dream I had ever had. I awoke to the sound of someone trying to get into my room and sat up in a panic as the light in the bathroom came on. It was at that moment I really awoke in total darkness. I was completely and utterly confused - the dream awakening seemed so real. It scared the hell out of me.
The next morning was a beautiful day, and I drove along the Charles daydreaming about flying away somewhere. I attended a breakfast honoring Mary Clancy, the outgoing Canadian Consul General. Immediately following, the awful news came. I watched the horror unfold at the Consulate. It was an interesting experience, seeing the reaction of a foreign government. I still remember the staff running around and the phones ringing off the hook. Around 11 or so, I finally was able to call home, and I drove Bryan home to the suburbs. The Pike was packed with cars like it was rush hour; the T was completely overloaded with people trying to get home. We watched the TV coverage as the fighter jets buzzed the city. The drive back to Bangot were some of the longest, quietest, loneliest five hours I can remember. It was then I was thankful to live in a small town in this corner of the world.
Five years. Hard to imagine. The world has changed...not just the outside world, but the one inside me as well.
Which brings us to moving day. I took my things over to my mom's apartment house on State Street today to put them in storage. The first load of things to be moved left with Tanya this afternoon. More will go with me today, and John will bring still more on Wednesday. My living room is down to bare furniture and some totes. The kitchen is still relatively full but the pile is smaller now. Tomorrow night I will sleep my first night in Portland. The next time I'm here I will be more a visitor than a resident.
I hope this is for the best. I think it is. I need this change of scenery, the new job, the new life. I deserve it. It's just so hard not to look back sometimes.
A significant day, to be sure. Hard to believe it's been five years since that awful day. I was over with John & John & Gail tonight, and we were talking about it. I can remember it very clearly - the night of the 10th it rained like crazy and the last game of the Red Sox-Yankees series was postponed. I stayed at the Radisson in Cambridge that night, and checked in behind a flight attendant. I always wondered if she was on one of the doomed flights the next morning. That night I had the strangest and most disturbing dream I had ever had. I awoke to the sound of someone trying to get into my room and sat up in a panic as the light in the bathroom came on. It was at that moment I really awoke in total darkness. I was completely and utterly confused - the dream awakening seemed so real. It scared the hell out of me.
The next morning was a beautiful day, and I drove along the Charles daydreaming about flying away somewhere. I attended a breakfast honoring Mary Clancy, the outgoing Canadian Consul General. Immediately following, the awful news came. I watched the horror unfold at the Consulate. It was an interesting experience, seeing the reaction of a foreign government. I still remember the staff running around and the phones ringing off the hook. Around 11 or so, I finally was able to call home, and I drove Bryan home to the suburbs. The Pike was packed with cars like it was rush hour; the T was completely overloaded with people trying to get home. We watched the TV coverage as the fighter jets buzzed the city. The drive back to Bangot were some of the longest, quietest, loneliest five hours I can remember. It was then I was thankful to live in a small town in this corner of the world.
Five years. Hard to imagine. The world has changed...not just the outside world, but the one inside me as well.
Which brings us to moving day. I took my things over to my mom's apartment house on State Street today to put them in storage. The first load of things to be moved left with Tanya this afternoon. More will go with me today, and John will bring still more on Wednesday. My living room is down to bare furniture and some totes. The kitchen is still relatively full but the pile is smaller now. Tomorrow night I will sleep my first night in Portland. The next time I'm here I will be more a visitor than a resident.
I hope this is for the best. I think it is. I need this change of scenery, the new job, the new life. I deserve it. It's just so hard not to look back sometimes.
posted by Wade at 1:04 AM
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