By now, 9/11/21. it was 5 years since the thwarted ISIS attack on the 15-year anniversary, which lead to the mandatory one-day flight embargo on the anniversary each year. but Captain Carter came to the airport anyway, just as he had every year, feeling simply that to not show up was a betrayal of his flight crew brothers and sisters, of the first responders, of everyone who had died that day – and a win for those piece of shit terrorists – and so just like every year, he walked the empty terminal, and prayed, and wept.
those first two periods should be commas … sorry
The plane sat on the tarmac like a whale lazing in the sun and the world held its breath.
The silence was deafening.
After a 48 hour delay, a plane had arrived, but not Kate’s plane; she jealously watched as the passengers on the flight before hers boarded, not knowing how long it would be before she could board her flight.
I used to live near LAX, and it was so eerie to look up in the sky and NOT see a line of planes, stretching for miles, on final approach; when they finally returned to their routine daily parade, it was reassuring.
Recognizing that a perfect sentence had already been posted, she offered a prayer for those taken, for those who’d served, selflessly, for those in pain and resolved to be kinder, more thoughtful, more present to those who are left behind, remembering.
Trudging through the eerily empty airport, Captain Rhodes tried desperately to think of anything other than what had happened — could have been just an hour ago? — but his thoughts were pulled inexorably to the three gaping wounds in his world, three black holes with the power to pluck planes from the sky and pull hope in after them.
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