It's hard to believe that seven years has past. Four years before Jaxon (pictured above) was born.
As I close my eyes, I remember....
The phone rang in the middle of the night, a typical humid New Zealand night. Peter answered, tapped lightly on the door and whispered, 'Sarah, your dad is on the phone.' I was half awake when my dad said, 'New York is being attacked.' In my half slumber (and being from New Mexico) I instantly thought of aliens. In dreams or in moments of half awareness things like that oddly make sense. I was confused, sat up in bed and turned the TV on to CNN. I shifted my eyes towards the glass paned french doors that led outside to the upstairs balcony. In the reflection of the glass, I could see my kiwi family all leaning towards the glowing television, where smoke bellowed from the first plane that collided with the tower. Everyone in the room was silent. Directing my attention back to the TV, the second plane hit and we all gasped in unison. I quickly looked away from the TV and stared outside into the darkness- twinkling lights sparkled off of the Auckland harbor water. Looking past Rangitoto Island, into black darkness, I imaged my family back in America and instinctively wished my family were safe with me, in New Zealand. I was more than 7000 miles away from my family. I was further away from New Mexico than I ever felt before, utterly helpless. Thinking ........why??? I clutched tightly onto my future husbands hand, instantly feeling safer.
I open my eyes, I remember.
Approaching my dad's house yesterday, I saw hanging at half mass, the strong colors of America. Two and a half year old Jaxon was running around the yard, laughing and rolling in the grass, oblivious of 9.11- as he should be. I grabbed my camera and asked Jaxon to hug the flag pole. He did. But as he let go, he quickly leaned towards the pole and said, 'Oh- and a kiss too.'