I remember that day. The Girls were here cleaning my house and one got a phone call--turn on the television she yelled. We did. And we watched. The second plane. The towers falling. It all happened so slowly and so fast.
I left for the library and my afternoon shift. BMW with the top down. Silence. No birds. No sounds at all. The library was quiet. My elderly friend Gregor came in and stood-- tears streaming down her face--Pearl Harbor was what she kept saying. She's lived thru that and had hoped to never see anything like it again. And then the church bells.......... somber. Bong. Bong. Bong. Echoing.
We had planes stacked up on old airfields in Maine. They had to land somewhere but not near New York. And none were allowed to take off again. Until we understood what was happening.
It rained most of last evening. Cloudy with a chance of tears today.
your last sentence, perfect.
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