Rachel Young

sunday, october 7, 2001

It was like being a kid all over again. Naive and jolly on a cool autumn day, with a bright sun peeking through the white clouds scattered in an azure sky. There I was watching the parades in the streets with cotton candy in one hand and the other holding an American flag. Today this tiny little town celebrated the anniversary of the discovery of a new world. A new world which promised countless opportunities and endless possibilities. But what has it come to now?

While wandering through a store, my friend and I heard President Bush address the nation over the radio. Terrorist camps in Afghanistan had been attacked by the US and the British.

The world as we know it will never be the same. We are not safe anymore. Humans are the pawn in this deadly war between "right" and "wrong". "The terrorists will pay the price," so says our nation's leader. Ultimately everyone will pay the price.

Mayor Guiliani says the city will not lock down and that New Yorkers should resume their lives as normal. Security has been tightened, but no further action will be taken unless there is a specific threat.

A specific threat? These terrorists are not going to phone the mayor and inform him, "At such-and-such a time, we're going to do such-and-such a thing." I know we shouldn't live our lives in constant paranoia of terrorist attacks, but how can we not now? Bin Laden has made it pretty clear that this is just the beginning of the "holy war".

My sister wants me to come back home. If not now, at least when my short-term lease ends in December. I wouldn't even consider it before (it's not as though DC is any safer than New York), but if the situation continues to get worse in the next couple months, I want to be with my family.

Ending our conversation, my sister says, "I love you, Rach."

"Don't say that!!!" I respond back. But I start to choke with tears (I've been somewhat emotional lately). I can't help thinking this isn't supposed to be happening. At least not in our lifetime.

It's strange. I had a horrible dream Friday night and wrote about it in my dream journal. Then I told a couple of my friends about my dream the next day. Both looked at me like I was crazy. Scientists were taking DNA samples from Nicholas Cage and creating these monstrous robotic soldiers that looked a lot like Transformers. Hundreds and hundreds of them started to march through fields toward the city.

Then the scene suddenly changes, and I'm dancing in the field. I'm dancing to a jazz song with a blanket in my arms. And then the sky darkens and the music stops.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I've been trying to record the past couple hours. But I just can't seem to do the song any justice. I'll try again tomorrow.

There are some days I wish I could just go off on my own tiny little island somewhere out in the Caribbean with a notebook, pen, guitar, and an endless supply of gummy bears.

Then I could make believe the world was perfect.

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