by Elizabeth Neilson

Created on: August 05, 2011

Ten years ago on September 11, the world changed. I changed.  I was looking forward to a great time vacationing on Long Island.  My plans were to visit family members, to go shopping, to go to the Bronx Zoo and to go into the city. I arrived by plane from Florida on Sunday, September 9.   I was determined to make it a vacation to remember. Well, it did turn out to be a vacation that I will never forget.

Tuesday morning my daughter-in-law and I were waiting for the Sunrise Mall to open; I was ready with my list of things I wanted to buy. All of my plans changed with a call from my daughter who lived in Florida.  My daughter-in-law turned on the television. All day, we sat watching, stopping only to pick up her children (my grandchildren) at the bus stop. We were in shock. Going to the Mall was out of the question so there we sat on the couch, flipping channels to get more information, maybe CBS has a better view, let us check out NBC or ABC.  We scrolled up and down the channels for hours.  I was numb. I did not cry. I could not cry. 

The next four days dragged on, a visit to my uncle taking him out to eat in his favorite Chinese restaurant. The restaurant was eerily empty.  My daughter-in-law and I finally went shopping at the mall. Some stores closed while other stores were open with very few customers. The sales people had grief written on their faces. 

I was determined to go to the Bronx Zoo with my son and his family so off we went.  Somehow, it was not fun. It was raining.  There were maybe fifty visitors walking around. It was not a pleasant day at all.  Another sad part, we could see the remains of the towers going and coming back from the zoo.

Finally, it was time for me to come home. There were many discussions with my son from Long Island and my daughter from Florida; both did not want me to fly home.  I called Amtrak and Greyhound; they were expensive and I already had my ticket to fly home, with no refund.  I even try to rent a car, and they would not rent for one-way trips.  I finally decided to go ahead and fly home. Waiting at the airport was strangely very comforting.  The passengers needed to be there three hours early.  While we were all waiting, we all talked about are families, our situation and all that had happened.  On the plane, I prayed and oddly enough enjoyed my trip home. 

Now ten years has passed. We are at war with Iraq and Afghanistan.  I am angry that this has happened.  That there are people who have such a hatred for us that human life means nothing to them.  I have given up wondering why they hate us.  I just want it to end.

How has all of this affected me? I will not fly. Before 9/11, I would fly anywhere; I enjoyed flying.  Now, the thought of getting into a plane terrifies me.  It is not the baggage checking or the lines as we go through the metal detecting machines with our shoes off.  This is all necessary.  I am afraid of the terrorist; I have become a profiler. I am not proud of my profiling behavior. Because of this, I will not fly until I feel safe again.

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