”History never looks like history when you are living through it.” – John W. Gardner
We never see life happening like it does. We see it either through rose colored glasses or pitch colored sunglasses. There are those who woke up that morning thinking, I wish my life could be better, I wish I could write a book, I wish I had told my wife how much I love her when I hung up the phone.
Some of these thoughts ran through the heads of people on those planes on September 11th. As humans we think about these things, I’m no different.
My second wedding anniversary was coming up on the nineteenth of September in 2001. I hadn’t planned for anything big, we’d gone to San Francisco the year before and I knew we couldn’t afford that again.
We hadn’t had kids yet, we were still three years off from our son’s birth and eight from our daughter’s birth. I’m reminded of how long ago it was when I look in on them while they’re sleeping, which is right now, since I’m staying up to work on my book and get a couple of posts done for the Inkwell and this one for The Today Voice.
Before that day, which was ordinary before I turned the TV on, I thought about writing a book, but never put forth effort for one reason or another.
I was influenced by the events around me, but that book changed just like my writing has changed since that day.
Nothing stands out about that day in my life, other than September 11 is my step-dad’s birthday. That is something I think about on 9/11 a lot. All those people who were ready to celebrate their birthdays, little kids, parents, grandparents and others who had all their plans ready for birthday parties, only to have it destroyed by the events that morning.
I went to work, watched TV with everyone else, didn’t make much money, but on that day who really cared. I came home, hugged my wife a little harder, kissed her a little longer and thought about life.
It was on that day I really thought about who I was and why I was here.
Since that day I’ve written a few short stories about that day, a blog post nearly every year and I hug my kids harder and kiss my wife longer every night of the anniversary.
Life is a chance to do something amazing, something the people on those planes, in those towers and the Pentagon didn’t get to do.
I write because someone on those planes will never get the chance to follow their dream. It could be a child or adult, it doesn’t matter who. What matters is that each day I write because someone can’t.
Brian B. Baker is an unpublished writer of Science Fiction/Fantasy and Horror. He’s been writing short stories since high school, and is certain it’s one of the few things that keeps him sane. Brian blogs at The Bleeding Inkwell.