September's Journal, 2001

September 11th

After both of us threw up repeatedly last night, I called in sick & didn't send Ishaq to school.

The phone rang way too early. It was mom again. (She just called last night between runs to the bathroom.) "You better turn on your TV. Somebody attacked the World Trade Center," she said insistently. 

I grabbed the remote while balancing the wireless receiver on my shoulder. I saw the explosions and the building collapse and debris and heard the stunned, emotional newscasters estimating the number of dead and trying to remain hopeful that there were some people still alive in the rubble. I was shocked.

"Oh- My- God," I finally said. "They're going to blame us for this."

"Well, I thought you better know," she said.

"Thanks. I just hope it isn't Muslims who did it."

"Me too," she said. "Good you're not going in to work today."

"Yeah, you're right."

Ishaq came in after I hung up the phone. I guess it woke him up. I told him what happened as carefully as I knew how and let him watch the newscast with me for a while. I was crying, thinking of all the dead and dying and the danger we were now in. Ishaq said, "Don't cry. You can't do anything about it." "I know," I said, holding him tight, "but this is the day our lives change."

I know he can't really understand but I hope that we stay safe, the community stays safe and all the Muslims stay safe. It didn't take long for the stations to postulate that Osama bin Laden was behind the attacks, though others were advising caution before placing any blame.