I was sitting in the living room with my daughter. My son had all ready caught the bus to school and my husband was backing out of the driveway on his way to work.
Then suddenly he wasn’t.
He came bursting through the door, the engine of his dream car still running in the driveway. “You’ve got to hear this.” and he opened the armoire and started to push buttons on the receiver.
I glanced out the driveway and noticed the driver side door, wide open. “You’re leaving your car on?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
It had to be an NPR story, but he’d just call me from the car for that excitement. Or a natural disaster like a hurricane or a volcano that he knew I would be fascinated with. But again, he’d call me.
Then suddenly their was a movie on TV that he wouldn’t bother showing me unless it was psychologically mind boggling. He sat back silent and wide eyed, as if he didn’t expect what he saw. Then he said “Isn’t it horrible?”
Then a plane hit the still standing Twin Tower and he screamed in dismay. “That just happened, that wasn’t on the radio!”