I was in no immediate danger.
Just a college senior, 100 miles away, sleeping his way through a philosophy of education class when the buildings exploded.
Our old professor finally couldn’t find the words. He just pointed and said go and I found myself in a courtyard standing with the other faces in a loose circle, holding hands with a women I have never meet.
Strangers, together, trying to make sense of the strangeness, the mystery, the unspoken.
Someone cried and the clouds floated across the sun on an absolute September morning. There was the wind and the sky and the sunlight and trees that spread long shadows across the grass indifferent to our human ruins.
In my dorm room, with the lights off, with the television off, I sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my hands and listened for the end of the world.
When the world didn’t end I called home.
Mom, you ok?
Mom, I love you.
I love you too.