*My mother's account of 9/11 and her feelings towards knowing I
could've been there.* I was at work when I heard there was an
airplane accident hitting one of the towers. I ran downstairs to
watch it on TV and saw the other tower being hit. I also watched
news people and the firemen rushing up the stairs in the lobby
of the first tower. You could also heard the bodies as they hit
the ground after falling. I was double sick because I knew that
my son was going on the train to New York for work training, one
block from the towers. Classes started at 8:45 a.m. When it was
hit, I knew that he would be one to run there and try to help.
We could see the smoke; and I didn't know until lunchtime that
his company was too busy to let them go. After all these years,
the whole memory of it all still gives me a sick feeling. I
still can't watch any of it on TV.
