Green Briefs on 9/11

Every American remembers where they were on 9/11. I’m no different, but I’m willing to bet my story is.

I was visiting my hometown, Nashua, NH, with my two month old baby boy. When the first plane hit, me and my babe were fast asleep in the guest bedroom of my best friend’s home

When she came in to tell me, I was in a sleep deprived daze and I did not understand the implications of her words. It took quite a while because as a brand new mother, I had one focus and one focus only. I am not sure at what point I realized that it was a really big deal. Monumental, actually. I nursed my baby while we watched the news for hours. Until finally we could take no more.

We called our friend Sarah to tell her we were picking her up. Jessica, blue as the deep blue sea. Sarah as red as the planet Mars. Libs are from Earth, GOPs are from Mars, I sat with my mouth shut in the back of the car. They argued the entire drive up the coast, diplomacy vs. war, war vs. diplomacy.

I sat in the rear quietly singing to my wee little one, filled with gratitude. It was awful what happened, but I was not able to fully comprehend the magnitude of anguish happening at that exact moment. I used to think I was selfish for zoning out with love for my child, instead of despairing over the worst tragedy of my lifetime. Now I understand myself well enough to know I was really just using my precious infant as a way to disassociate because my bleeding heart never could have handled the scope of that collective pain. What better shield from pain is there, than love?

So we drove up the coast and we had a nice lunch and on our way back we stopped at a seaside park. My friends, took a page out of my book, called a truce and finally agreed that what this situation called for was all the peace and love that could be mustered. They decided to take a walk on a cliff side trail. My sweet boy was asleep in his car seat and would need to nurse soon, so I sent them ahead without me.

I found a picnic table on the cliff, looking down at the Atlantic, as tumultuous as the state of the world. As the sun was setting, my baby woke and I sat down to nurse him. The sky was on fire with all the colors, red, blue and everything in between. I walked and swayed and hummed. I kissed his teeny fingers while he stared into my eyes and nursed. I would do anything for this tiny human. Finally tears came as I wondered how the world could be so beautiful and so ugly at the same time.

I heard footsteps behind me, wiped my tears and turned, expecting my friends.

Instead, there was a man. Completely naked, with green underwear briefs on his head. Masturbating with his eyes rolling, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

In one split second I pictured my baby’s head smashed against the cliff as I struggled to protect him and myself. I tried to scream. My mouth opened, my throat tensed but no sound would come out. I have had nightmares like this before.

When I finally croaked out a yelp, he turned and ran off into the woods.

My friends didn’t come back for 20 minutes. If my brain had been functioning properly, I would have run and locked us in the car. Instead I paced, while squeezing my baby to my chest, perhaps a little too tight. Bile in my throat. Heart pounding like a war drum out of rhythm.

When they finally returned I was barely able put words to the event. My friends were shocked and concerned, but much the way I felt upon hearing about the towers, they could not wrap their brains around the terror of the experience. We wondered if we should go to the police, but ultimately I just wanted to get as far away from the situation as possible, so we went to my family’s house instead.

Not unexpectedly, despite the somberness of the day, the fam were all drinking when we got there. When I relayed my story, with shaking hands, they whooped in peals of laughter. (22 years later I can see some of the humor, I mean, green briefs on his head??) But when I remember standing on the edge of a cliff with only a picnic table between my baby and a psychotic pervert, possibly a predator…my hands are shaking as I type this. They had no concern, no compassion. What I got was, “You’re fine. No harm, no foul. I could see if something actually happened, but you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Upset as I was, I let it go, because while it was terrifying in that moment, it did pass, “No harm, no foul.” I still had my baby in my arms, alive and well, and we were not climbing through rubble, covered in ashes. We were not in search of our loved ones for days.

All these years later, I still don’t understand. Most of the events in my life, I am able to trace to a purpose of some sort. But this one, the dots simply do not connect. It seems 9/11 was a day that didn’t make sense in any realm.

Every year I feel guilty that I have this bizarre memory instead of the unimaginable anguish of so many others. But it’s a crazy fucked up world. It’s beautiful and ugly, full of color and unconnected dots, perverts and friends and babies, terror and peace and pain and loss and love and all the epic failures and Little Victories you could possibly imagine.