Ten Years On

Ten years ago, we lived in Saudi Arabia.
Ten years later, we are happily back on the Arabian Peninsula.


September 11, 2001

The bubble burst on Abqaiq's scene in the afternoon.
Satellite TV pumped CNN's horrifying images
into my living room
at the end of a normal school day.

Except normal was on fire and about to get worse.

At the time, our normality meant teaching in a foreign land-
bedouins, camels, sand.
Arabic prayer calls, flat bread,
Irish golfing buddies
and the best teaching job I'll ever have.

Motivated multi-cultural students.
More computers than students.
Two parent families.
Third culture, empathetic kids.
Community, harmony- sun and sand.
Abqaiq, Saudi Mayberry Arabia.

All in flames.

Throughout August, Rosie's
10 month-old legs had worked
overtime.
She would circle the
coffee table.
Round and round she shuffled
while holding onto the
table.
She yearned for more:

To let
go.

As I arrived home,
Our teary eyed nanny, Linda, said:
"Sir. Please watch. Watch!"

Loud pictures.

My hometown was under attack.
Mesmerized and horrified,
we watched the second plane.

My mother went off in my head with one of her oft repeated lines:
"We all remember that moment when President Kennedy was shot.
Everyone who lived through it remembers exactly where they were that day."

Transfixed and crying,
I watched the World Trade Center
crumble (terrorists GET symbolism)

Tita Linda held my hand while
my mother dialed the phone half a
world away.

My mother "enlarges the circle greatly" but
she is unable to reach
her son in the
Kingdom.
The country's phone lines are unavailable
to the outside world.
"We're tapping phone lines,
I know that ain't allowed."

Why? How? What now?


Rosie walked

across
the living room floor
to her shattered Dad.


My mother was indeed right.
I'll always remember where I was the day
Rosie took her first steps.
The day our little girl
walked us out of the sand
and back
home.