Twenty, to the Minute
Tears are running this morning. Most of these anniversaries have passed with a solemn recollection of that morning, one in which the usual meeting was underway in a tower in the greenery by the river. And as the word spread of unusual events began to spread, our world shifted on its normal axis into something new. As we remember Dan and Vince and all the others who perished on this day, at this time, almost to the exact minute, in what had been a lovely morning.
The civilians were “sent home,” a euphemism for something else. Others worked as they could through the day. Eventually, that day’s light faded. I stood that evening on the balcony of an old low building in the District and watched the Pentagon burn.
It was this minute. In that “now.”
- Vic
