They Were Just Going To Work

Oh, God. I just remembered that back in March I was standing in the bookshop on the ground floor of one of the Trade Center towers and I think of those people there, the people behind the counter and shopping for a book and today someone wants to kill them. Because they are different. Because they have something they don’t. For whatever reason, someone wants to take their lives.

Someone hates them so much that they would knowingly kill themselves in a fireball rather than allow those ordinary men and women to go on living their lives. And I hear the word ‘cowardly’ bandied about as though this wasn’t some coldly calculated attack. Maybe there are cowards, people who sent the hijackers out to their deaths. Maybe they held the hijackers’ families and children hostages to make them comply. Whatever. The cold immorality is numbing. Beyond comprehension.

I can only wrap my mind around it in an abstract ‘is this war?’ way and a ‘what will happen next?’ way. I cannot deal with those abstracts though–they are beyond my influence. The only reality I can touch is in my heart when I think of my friends, real people–Pat and Danielle, out there in Manhattan. I worry for them and their wellbeing and am glad to find they have both been online. I send a prayer for their families and friends and loved ones and hope they are safe.

And I think too of all my friends in the USA and I touch base with some of them and share this time, this impossible reality, these feelings of shock and nausea with them. I also try to share that they are loved and cared about…

And then I remember that I ordered another couple of books via the internet from the nice bookshop in the World Trade Center and I think of them. I go to my email and I find the receipt and think of those books… those wonderful books which gave me so much pleasure. I open up the email and go to send a reply so I can say… something… and I look at it… blank… and words won’t come… and I just start crying…

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