“I need to talk to Catherine.”

I didn’t recognize the voice at first, but quickly realized that it must be Sandy, Catherine’s sister.  The catch in her voice meant something was going down.

“Sandy?  Give me a minute.  I think she’s meeting with Ron Sparks right now, but I’ll let her know you need to talk to her.”

“Owl . . . it’s really . . . get to a TV . . . the news . . . a plane . . . New York . . . just . . .”

“Hold on for just a minute, I’ll get her.”

As the “upper crust” of our little town, they were heirs to a thriving veal feed business.  As enthusiastic, educated Republicans, they entertained themselves supporting local causes.  Catherine, for example, was the Executive Director of our Community Foundation, and thus my superior.  Her almost icy reserve was balanced by Sandy’s expressiveness.  But I was a little worried about Sandy, so I knocked and opened Catherine’s door.

“Yes?” Catherine veiled a glare with a pleasant looking smile.

“Sandy is on line one.  It sounds urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t have interrupted,” I gave Monte the farmer nod and a grin. “Hi, Ron, sorry to break in.”

“Um, okay.  Ron, will you excuse me for a moment?  You know how Sandy is . . . “

Catherine always looked a little like a lizard when she was making small talk, or doing little pleasantries.

“Of course, Catherine,” Monte chuckled.  He met my eyes with a twinkle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Catherine followed me down the hall to the front desk phone, setting the phone on the upper counter to pick up the call.  She stopped me before I made it to the filing cabinet, motioning that she wasn’t sure which button to push.  I pushed it for her, and went back to my organization project.

“What?”

. . .

“What?”

. . .

“Slow down, Sandy.”  She put her hand over the mouthpiece, and whispered. “Owl, do we have a TV in the building?  There’s something on the news . . . a plane crashed into . . . a building . . . in New York.  Sally’s really upset.”

I shook my head with a subliminal sigh and sat down behind my computer, logging in quickly to CNN for a live feed.  Statistically, it’s safer to fly than to drive, but planes make bigger explosions.  Better television.  Cue the inquiries.  Maybe one of their husbands was on travel . . .

Time stood still while the video stuttered into motion over our slow connection.

I read the headlines while thinking about media hysteria.  Scanned the crawler while thinking about reasons planes leave the sky unannounced.  I hadn’t heard of the Twin Towers, having never been to New York City. 

And then the pictures sprang to life, as though in real time, as the second plane ripped into the second tower.  And there was no doubt about what was happening, all too quickly, right before my eyes.

I couldn’t hear the announcer over the silence in my head.

Catherine was leaning over my shoulder, blue eyes brimming as the tears rolled down her face.

I must have looked very grim, but I nodded reassuringly as she hung up the phone and hurried down the hall.

It’s a blur, really, all the images that became icons.  A blur without sound.  It’s not that I’ve forgotten, it’s that I cannot hear it.

I called Raven and told her what was known, warning her that she might not want to turn on the TV.

Though I never went home for lunch, Raven and I ate macaroni and cheese with tomato bits at the glass-topped table on our brick walkway/patio in the backyard.  I spoke in a calm voice about the reported facts regarding Twin Towers, and the Pentagon, and the flight that fell down in the field.  The antique red roses by the back stoop smelled so sweet, I wanted to eat them, and wispy white clouds stroked an unbelievably blue sky.

We decided not to watch TV until after the Giant went to bed.  We decided we’d keep him in school if the school was open.  We decided we’d see what he knew before volunteering information. 

We held hands even though we were outside.

I never knew how much noise was in the sky.

On September 11, 2001, the sky was dead silent.

.