This morning I woke around 7a because I had to go to the bathroom, and I am walking across my apartment and I thought, "Did something happen yesterday?"

I kept thinking that I was certain that something had happened, something big, but I couldn't think of what it was, it took me about five minutes of trying hard, "Something happened, something in Manhattan, a bomb? Was there a fire?" and then I remembered, and I had the picture in my head of the second plane hitting the second tower, and my head just shot back, like whiplash.

And I literally could not believe it. I mean, I watched it on TV nonstop for eighteen hours, and it seemed real because I watched it all in a row, but the break of sleeping for the few hours that I had slept at that point removed me from the immediacy of the event and it suddenly seemed completely impossible.

I went back to sleep until 9.30a, when I called my office to see whether I was supposed to go in. The Mayor had said last night that unless we were vital workers, we should stay home, but I had no idea whether my company considers the AP department to be vital, so I thought I'd call.

The switchboard was immediately answered by a recording, which meant that Amy wasn't there. I started dialing extensions, but the ones that start with a 5 aren't reachable by dialing from the switchboard, stupidly. I hit a wrong extension and pressed 0 to get back to the switchboard and start over.

"Good morning, Company That Must Not Be Named."
"O hi, I didn't know anyone was there! I called a second ago and got the voicemail."
"I've been here since 5.45a, picking up the phone for NY."
"O, is this the California switchboard?"
"Yes, it is."
"O, hi, this is Kymm calling from NY, are we closed then? I was checking to see if I should come in."
"O no, we are open, you should come to work."
"Can you switch me to an extension?"
"No, I can only write down messages, I cannot dial through."
"Okay, I'm going to try the main NY number again."

I certainly wasn't going to take the advice of someone in Los Angeles that I should go to work in NY. I tried dialing direct to people's desks, but it's almost impossible to get through, so I tried the 800 number again. This time I got the head of Finance.

"Hello?"
"You are there!"
"Yes, I am."
"Um, am I supposed to come in?"
O no, no, don't come in, it would take you half a day."
"Is The Raccoon there?"
"No, she called, there are still roads closed around her, she can't make it."
"Is the Lincoln Tunnel still closed?"
"Yes, it is, don't worry about it."
"Well then, I couldn't if I tried. Okay, see you tomorrow."

And I went back to bed.

When I read this entry of Lucy's, I thought that I never particularly notice the sound of planes, not living under a major flight path, that I wouldn't notice such a thing.

When I woke up for good, I was struck by the complete silence. No cars, no planes, no voices. No birds, even. It was like being in the aftermath of huge disaster. Which it was, of course.

It's been a strange day, stranger than yesterday. Yesterday I watched TV and watched TV and was shocked and horrified, but I neither cried nor felt like crying. Today, I keep bursting into tears, for the first time when I saw a report filed by a correspondent who was stuck in Paris, seeing a clip of Jacques Chirac, stunned look on his face, and the voiceover said that he was saying that the support of the French people was fully behind the United States. I was crying and shaking and I couldn't stop.

I cried when I saw a man on TV who had snuck back into the area to get his cats, saying that no-one had belittled him, saying that they were only animals. I cried when I watched people hold up pictures of lost husbands and wives and sisters and fathers to the TV camera, saying their names, saying that they hadn't heard from them. I cried reading the WNBC bulletin board, that the station has completely given over so that people could trade information about people who they had seen or were looking for. I cried when they said that there were police and firefighters and ambulance workers coming to help from as far away as Boston and Philadelphia, and equipment was coming from as far as the midwest and Puerto Rico.

I also cried when receiving this email from Seb Agnello, a man on one of my mailing lists:

"Today I'm an especially proud Canadian Dad. My 17 year old daughter said.. "Dad, me and a couple of my friends want to donate blood for the American victims. May I?" I said, "Of course." She and her friends just returned from donating blood for the first time. I'm so proud of her and her friends!"

The outpouring of support and caring from around the world, particularly Canada, has been amazing.

All day yesterday I kept saying how much I wanted to give blood, how I couldn't wait to give blood, then somebody mentioned that they couldn't donate because of British beef, so I found this site, and found that since I spent about a year and a half total in England between 1980-86, I am ineligible. I had to go to the supermarket last night, and while I was there they were accepting monetary donations at the checkout, so I was able to do something.

Jen and Tracing have been out volunteering, I want to do the same, but I find myself paralysed today. I cannot bear the thought of leaving the house, I don't know if it's because I am afraid or because I keep thinking something else is going to happen and I don't want to leave the TV.

I keep thinking about WWII, about the war at home and the Red Cross and blackout curtains and air raid drills and all of the lights going out in NY and on Broadway and munitions workers and the Blitz. And boys going off and being killed. I have the first episode of Band of Brothers on TiVo and suddenly it seems not like history, but like now. I don't know when I'll be able to watch it.

Today's horoscope:
An unexpected visitor drops in and takes extra time and attention. You are sidetracked from your normal tasks.

One year ago today:
And I thought, Jesus wept, I'm almost old enough to be the mother of a girl boxer!

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Last Updated Wed 12 September 21:03:09 2001