When my family takes vacations, we go
all out.
I was 11 years old in the 6th grade sitting at the dinner table with my brother and parents when my dad presented us with an idea: a family vacation. Where? That was up to us. We were given a sheet of graphics my dad had put together on the computer of vacation options, and we were left with a choice: California, Canada, Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Disney World or New York City. Being in 6th grade and always hearing about Disney World but never having been, it was our first choice. A solid choice that we felt good about. Never in a million years would I look back and see how different my life could be from one silly vacation choice.
Skip to vacation day: my bags were packed, and I remember our neighbor driving us to the airport with Disney music playing on the CD player. It was early (I am not and have never been an early bird.) Boarding the plane, I had gripped in my hands a journal of notes friends wrote me at school to read on the flight. Ironically, the week of September 11, 2001 was my very first time to get on an airplane. I cried when the engine cranked because I was terrified of airplanes, and I still am to this day.
I didn't move the whole plane ride.
Disney World was great. The first 4 days of our trip were spent riding every ride, taking pictures with Mickey, attending luaus that Disney had put on (which I highly recommend, by the way) and lots of crying on my part. I was a cry baby. I feared roller coasters but eventually warmed up to them at the end of our vacation.
The day of September 11, I was enjoying myself like many others in the Magic Kingdom park when a voice came over the loud speaker telling us the park was shutting down. The reason was not given and everyone left in mass confusion. From the park, we took a bus back to our hotel. On the way back, I remember my dad saying, "I wonder what's going on?" The man sitting next to us says, "Haven't you heard? The Twin Towers are under attack." At this point, they had not fallen.
We make it back to our hotel room in time to flip on the television and catch up on what was happening. I didn't understand what the Twin Towers were or why they were so important, but I sat there quietly because I could tell my parents were upset.
"Do you think they could collapse, Joe?" my mom says.
As an architect, we trusted my dads opinion that he knew about structures and weight. His response was, "No."
If only that was true.
We watched the towers fall on live television in our hotel room. I won't forget what that moment looked like: the TV, my parents, the image we saw on the screen.
Our trip was cut short. We quickly packed up our bags and made our way to a car rental place. It was time to go home, and the airlines were closed. It was our only option.
11 hours later we were home.
I was home. My parents were home. My brother was home. I had everyone I loved under one roof, and then some: my friends were OK, my grandparents were home. My neighbors were home. As I watched America in turmoil, and I watched people losing the ones they loved, I grew to appreciate home more than I ever have.
I look back and wonder what my life would be like if my parents had chosen to take us to the capital of the world, the big apple, New York City. The things I would have seen. The things I would have heard. It's a given to say that my life would be changed forever. Would I even be here?
Like all of us, when September 11 rolls around, our hearts are heavy. I have a hard time watching the footage, seeing pictures or even talking about it. Just being September 11 is difficult for me, and I am sure for you, too.
I never went back to Disney World. That was my first and only time. Tyler and I talk about going back one day, and I definitely want to, but I'm sure the raw feelings that were left there would be hard to bear.
Thank you, God, for keeping my family safe. We will never forget 9/11.
Where were you when the world stopped turning? Comment below.
