Wednesday, September 10, 2014






13 years ago, I was still living in Australia.  I had just gotten out of the shower, when my friend Einid called me, and told me that a plane had crashed into a building in the US - and she insisted that I turn the telly on.
 I didn't think too much of it, thinking it was an air show crash or something, but I turned the TV on, and dropped straight to my knees.  I swear I didn't move from that spot for what literally turned out to be hours.

  My first thought was my son Josh... and I tried frantically calling the US, while still kneeling there on the floor watching the TV.... but I couldn't get through.

 I didn't know where Josh was, and although I knew somewhere in the deep reaches of my mind, that he wasn't in NY, my heart was still frozen with dread.  All I wanted, was to hear my son's voice - and to know that he was okay.

It took 3 days before I could finally get a call through to my Dad, and once he had assured me that my son was okay, I could finally start to process the horror that we, as Americans, had gone through.



2 comments:

Tania @ Out Back said...

Hi Tatersmama, it is so good to see you back blogging, I have missed you around here. My blog has been pretty quiet this year as I just seem to be so busy :)

I just wanted to say welcome back xx

Gabe and Libby said...

So very very very glad that you're posting again. Although we connect often on FB, it just isn't the same as reading and enjoying your blog. Hat's off to you my Crisco and Bacon love'n Tater Tot!


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