At around 9:15, it started to thunder. Not the crack and crash variety that seems to go hand in hand with lightning, but the loud, rumbling, booming sort that my mom used to tell us was "God rearranging his furniture" or "God, bowling".
I've loved thunder for as long as I can remember. I love it by itself, I love it served with heaping side dishes of rain and lightning, I love it any way it presents itself.
But now -- tonight, and every time it's thundered this way since September 11 -- the initial thrill I experience upon hearing the first rumble is almost immediately followed by my thinking, It's a bomb. I hold my breath and close my eyes. I stop typing. I wait for the next rumble. It's the Empire State Building. And the next. I should put on shoes just in case.
It's not until I hear the rain, and see it through the skylight, that I start typing again.
fresh-baked at 10:06 PMFor New Yorkers, waiting for the other shoe to drop is likely to become part of who we are, which really goes against the grain of my fellow residents.
Such is life in the Apple.
Offered by: Scott on June 19, 2002 9:41 AMI think that ongoing sense of fear and "what's next" is one of the saddest things to come of 9/11.
I wonder how long it will take for those reflexes to return to "normal" ... if ever?
Offered by: Kelly on June 18, 2002 1:39 AMWe live on the flight path to LGA. I get that feeling every time a plane comes in lower than usual. Some nights, when one comes in really loud, Scott and I just look at each other, frozen until it continues innocently on its way.
It's odd. New Yorkers have a reputation for being tough, and we are, but September 11 has put a fear into us. You see it in everyone here at one time or another.
Offered by: Kim on June 18, 2002 12:02 AMWoah. I can only imagine...
Offered by: Tess on June 17, 2002 11:27 PM
