Almost exactly one week ago today I was in my apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan (bordering Chinatown) running a little late for my "day job".   I lazily went about my routine.   I had to shower that morning since (even though it is my preference) I had been too tired the night before.   As I was wasting time before my shower I heard and felt what I dismissed as the garbage truck outside or some other large vehicle.   Having lived in New York City for just over two years I am used to most forms of city noise.   I suppose I almost expect them.
    I went about my tried and true routine sloppily and halfheartedly.   Looking at the clock, I realized it was much too late to piddle so I stepped up the pace of my monotony.  Over the sound of the sink I thought I could hear my phone ringing.   My first thought was a telemarketer or Ryan calling from work.  The phone was near the bathroom and from the caller i.d. on the handset I saw that it was my mother.
    My mother (Turtlemommy to me and my sister) never ever calls me in the morning.  She is clockwork in her evening call.  This tells me that I am either a) in trouble for something I did most likely involving money or b) she is having one of those mornings where she is lonely and just has to call me.   Either one of those would make me even later than I already am.
    I pushed the talk button and although I don't know exactly what I said I am sure it was something like, "TURTLE! WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME NOW???? " Or "WHAT DO YOU WANT?? I'M LATE!"  But as she spoke her first word I knew this wasn't a regular call.  She was soft and demure.  "Are you okay?"   I didn't know what she meant.  "What do you mean am I okay? What are you talking about?"  Although I didn't know the scope of what she was going to say next the inflection and tone in her voice is engraved in my memory.  "A plane hit the World Trade Center."
    I honestly don't remember if she said a plane or two planes.   I didn't think it was massive though. In my mind I pictured a shuttle or a chartered flight.   I said "Oh my God" or something close to it but then, a good little bee, I thought I'm late for work.   I heard her say, "Child, you better turn on your t.v."  I told her I had to hang up, I would call her when I got to work.   Immediately I went to the television.   I didn't have cable.   It never really bothered me because I could get most of the good channels from the air.  That is a benefit to living in New York...the signals are strong.   I pressed "power".  Nothing.   Not one channel was visible.   Still, I wasn't that concerned.   But then my phone rang again.  This time it was an aunt who rarely calls me,  and never calls me in the morning.  Before I answered I knew something big must have happened.  She said basically the same thing my mother said.   I told her to hang on.   I could take my phone outside and tell her what I see.
    On a normal day both towers 1 and 2 are clearly visible from the street I live on.   (Later I measured the distance to them on the map in the phone book and they are a mere mile away.)   I don't remember hearing anything as I went outside.   I didn't hear a voice.   I didn't hear a car.   I didn't even really see many people.   I saw a giant chimney.   I didn't notice if there was one or two buildings.   I just saw smoke.   Black and forbidding.  The building was hurt.   I went inside, grabbed my camera and took a picture.   I would be able to look back on the day the WTC caught fire.   Never never never never did I think I wouldn't see her again.
    I called work and said I would be late.   The receptionist almost sarcastically said "I am sure you will be."  I grabbed my camera and binoculars and went to work.   I took the subway.   I wasn't afraid.   I wasn't nervous.   I wasn't aware of what was happening.   I just thought there was going to be something for the news to focus on for a week or two.   And then I thought "Oh my God I didn't lock my door."   In my rush out I couldn't remember the act of locking it and it consumed my mind the whole ride.   I didn't think I should get off to go home because I had a feeling the trains would be slow and I didn't want to be late for work.   I resolved to call my neighbor when I got to the office at 342 Madison Avenue.
    I emerged at 42nd street to a different midtown than the one I knew.   People were walking faster than even the fastest New York pace.   I still wanted to get to a phone to call my neighbor.   I got to my building which is right across the street from Grand Central and I noticed the usually lax security guard was religiously checking the building passes of familiar faces.   I hopped the elevator to the third floor.   In the office everyone had a radio on.   The building fell.   The second building fell.   Planes were unaccounted for; we didn't know where they were going.   I called my neighbor.   My door was locked - thanks to the routine of locking it I am sure because my head was not there.   He told me he went to the roof of our apartment building and he saw the towers fall.   He heard screaming.  We were scared.  We thought Grand Central was next.  Bombs were going to go off anywhere.  We didn't know where to go.  We didn't know what to do.  We didn't want to stay where we were.  We couldn't make phone calls.  We couldn't get phone calls.  We could access the Internet though and I sent e-mails to my closest friends saying I was ok.
    I was worried about a couple of people I knew who worked in the financial district.   I had to just wait for news.  We got word it was ok if we left work and so most of us decided to walk home.  We didn't have a choice.  There was no public transportation.  I left and began to walk south.   I was a minority.   Most people were walking north.   In the distance you could see a tremendous cloud of smoke.  It looked like a tornado but larger and more hopeless.  On a clear day you really can see forever in Manhattan.  It is relatively small and the twin towers can be seen from most points of the island.  As I made my way from mid-town to the East Village I should have seen them in the distance.  But I saw a gap.  Suddenly the city felt so small.  And I looked around and all I saw were 5-story walk-ups.  I felt like I was in Boston.  I knew every dark corner of every street.  I knew every shortcut.
    People were walking towards me with dr. masks on or towels around their necks.  Nobody said a word.  We just kept walking all the while looking at an empty space.  Fighter planes flew overhead.  Giving us a feeling of security and scaring the **** out of us at the same time.  We had to search to find them since they passed overhead of us way before we heard them.   I overheard people saying where they were heading.  Some people were going to walk across the Williamsburg bridge to Brooklyn.  They needed out of Manhattan and home.  I heard estimates of how long a walk home they had.  I heard 3 hours for a lot of people.  It took me 45 minutes to walk the 50 blocks home.  It seemed like such a short time.
    I wanted to thank Kevin my neighbor for checking my door.  He had cable and I stopped to watch some coverage in his apartment.  They had everything on film.  I couldn't stop watching.  I saw the 2nd plane dive into the building.  It was inconceivable.  But I saw it.  I could see the smoke from the window.   I could hear the fire trucks and the ambulances and the police cars and the helicopters and the heavy machinery and the jets.  But the thing I will never forget hearing is that sound I had mistaken for the garbage truck that morning.
    I didn't cry though.   It wasn't until that night when there was a news story that the Empire State Building had been evacuated because of a bomb threat and a bomb sniffing dog "sat down" did I cry.   I thought "oh my god" those dogs don't make mistakes and all the fear I had from the day just caught up with me. It was a false alarm and the poor dog was just so tired he probably needed to take a break.   My parents came to visit me a month ago and we all stayed in the Millennium hotel across from the WTC.   We were all over those buildings for a week.   I couldn't stop thinking of the skyline. How could our skyline be so different. It took awhile before I could even think of the people.   How do you think of so many people?
    I just thought of the buildings.   People didn't like these buildings when they were first built.  They thought they were too tall and unsightly.   But they grew on the people here.   They won the love of the tough public.  They were tall but simple.   It was like the buildings were the embodiment of the underdog.   It's crazy but I think that's how people unconsciously felt about them.  They were on one hand magnificent and a symbol of economic superiority but they didn't start out that way.  They had to earn the respect and love of these tough New Yorkers.  In some ways it's hard for New York to open its arms to anything new.  New Yorkers are tough and stubborn and hard but they have to be.  You have to be a survivor to live here.  You have to be quicker on your feet here than anywhere else.  You can't make it here by just getting by.  And it is such a blessing.  People rise to meet New York's greatness.  This is the city of 7th generation policemen and firefighters.   Family is tight here and there is not one city in the world that can't admire the pride a typical New Yorker has for his/her home.
    The Mayor of New York is just fabulous.   Even though I am a Democrat I always loved him.   He's tough and funny and he gets stuff done.   He made this city so much greater than it ever was.   When I first moved here I would get teased for being such a Rudy supporter.  "But he closed down the club I like" "he's killing the underground music scene".   PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK.   The guy is a gift from God.   I am getting the impression the rest of the country is realizing it too.   He tells us to get back to normal.   We try.   He tells us to not let these people defeat our spirit.   He says it hasn't.   I think he is making us believe in ourselves when we aren't so sure.   That alone is amazing.
    But, if you ride the subway you see a little of the spirit is gone.   The people are so quiet. It is very eerie and too sad to find the words to describe it.   Things were strange for a few days.   I had to show i.d. to get to my building.  There was no traffic.   Stores and businesses were closed.  We had a bomb scare and had to evacuate my office building.
    Now things seem almost normal.  The smell of smoke has faded.  Stores and businesses are open and there is traffic again.  But there is a part of me thinks things will never be truly normal.  I will admit it, I am really scared.  I'm scared because I am a part of the 18-25 age group.  I am scared for the men and women that might be sent off.  I'm scared because Dan Rather cried on Lettermen last night.  I'm scared terrorists will do more evil things.  I'm scared that I could be someone that turns up missing.  I am scared for our country but I am just scared for the world.
    I had to choose between L.A. and New York as a home when I graduated from college.  They are really the only two places I could have gone to try and do what I am trying to do.  I came to NYC.   My mom keeps asking me if I want to come home.  I am home though and I don't want to have to leave.   I have NEVER felt like I had a home anywhere else than my hometown until this week.   Now I can never imagine being anywhere else.   I took this gorgeous place for granted and I feel ashamed for that.   But I think a lot of us took a lot of things for granted before last Tuesday.   For the first time I can say I have so much respect for the people that came before us right now and really feel it.   Before I thought I felt it but I didn't.  I don't think you can know the courage the people before you had until you are forced with the choice to be courageous or to be fainthearted.
    I wish I was back at Parkersburg Catholic where my biggest problem was finding the time during Channel 1 to secretly do my vocab homework.   I wish I was back at the Boston Conservatory where my biggest problem was feeling stupid in pointe class.  I wish I was back to last week where my biggest problem was if I would get acting work or not or if I should move to Queens or not.   A week ago I thought everything was fine.   Isn't that the definition of taking something for granted?  I hope I learn.
    Love, Khara