This week was the anniversary of the '93 bombing at the WTC. I've been thinking about that a bit. Of course, just the year after people forgot about it mostly because of Oklahoma City, and then it was the school shootings, and now it's 9/11 so most people don't really think about 93 at all, but I do. My mom used to work (well up through 2002, actually) two blocks away from the WTC, so she felt the explosion. Everyone else apparently was going "was it an accident? lightning, maybe?" but she just knew. Or so she says. Apparently, my dad was supposed to meet up with her there for lunch, but he didn't, and when he picked me up from school it took me a while for it to sink in that we were listening to the news on the radio instead of music or nothing. Scared me a bit, but since I wasn't listening, I didn't think about it or put anything together for a while. And we drove around a lot... I knew Daddy was upset, but I didn't know why, but we explored the island a bit. And then we came home, and eventually I figured out what was going on, but I don't remember that at all. I just remember driving around picking up that there was something vaguely not right and having no idea what it was. And I've been thinking about it, and now I miss my dad. *sighs*
God, I'm depressing. I promise, next week I'll be cheerier.
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