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Hard to get myself into the right mindset to type.
Back in some semblance of "real" life today. What's passing for real right now, anyway. The Boyfriend and I returned the rental car to National this morning (so long, Minivan! It was fun!). I called Massport first to see if we could even get in to the rental lot, since Logan is still closed, but they assured me that access to drop off was definitely open. While we were at the desk (1390 miles total), another man in the process of returning his car asked us about where we'd driven from and how long it had taken. He then launched in to his story, loudly and in detail. From the looks on the faces of the girls behind the counter, this had been a common occurance over the past couple days. They couldn't have appeared less interested. I smiled and thanked them and got the Boyfriend the hell out of there before he started telling our full story to them, too.
Getting back out of the airport from there required us to make the full loop around all five terminals. I've done this drive countless times before. Usually, it's congested and trying, full of angry drivers who just missed their terminal turns, busses with loud, unceasing horns and countless taxis that weave into spots that appear far too small for them. Usually, the sky is criscrossed with planes on their way in and out of the runways.
Today, we were met by a handful of other cars. I saw no planes at all (Logan is still officially closed). The ramps to all the departure gates were blocked off by orange highway barrels backed by police cars with full siren lights running. All in all, an eerie place to be. Not one I wanted to stick around in.
Once we left the airport behind, I brought the Boyfriend home. Ten days of constant, 24-hour contact is a lot for two people. We ran out of things to say to each other somewhere around North Carolina. I didn't stick around the condo very long. Aside from being ready for a break, I was anxious to see my mom.
I drove straight to her house and joined her and David on the couch to watch the National Prayer Service. We sat in silence for over an hour, our cconcentration broken only by the church bells as they pealed around the center, one church after another, then all in unison.
A white-faced David welcomed me home and then told me that one of the passengers on the American Airlines flight was his childhood best friend. Peter was a Raytheon executive. His dad and David's dad still play golf together. David's news was the first place the tragedy struck my life directly, the first place where the news had a face I recognized.
Coming back to the apartment tonight, I started reading through a couple of the boards I post to and read regularly. Other posters, people I know only through my computer screen, gave more faces to the news, described ways they have been hit, people they have lost, people they still hope to hear from. Sars posted her very personal story, thankfully one of survival, but still one of loss. I'm afraid to read any more, to discover the other ways I don't know yet that this will creep into my own house.
At 10:00, I walked out to my front steps with my lit candle and my phone and called my mom, sitting on her front steps with her lit candle. For half an hour we sat and talked and reflected on the things we hold most dear, the people we are lucky to have in our lives. After we hung up, I sat for a few more minutes and sang "Let there be Peace on Earth" to myself and said a prayer for the few people I know and the thousands I don't who are going to bed tonight without the people they love. It doesn't feel like much, but it's something I could do. And so I continue to do so.
I really do want to record an account of my vacation, but I just can't seem to get there. Give me a couple of days...
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