the beginning of the end

My Mom called me at work. Her voice shakey and tearful, she began telling me, nearly hysterically, how two planes had crashed into a building in New York.

My first thought: Here she goes again. Mom was always getting overly excited about things. I figured it was a very small plane and she was just overreacting. Over the next few minutes the news had hit and we set up a small television in our office. We sat and watched in disbelief.

I remember that day differently than others. It was one of the last days I spoke to my Mom while she was still "normal."