I took this picture out of the window at the airport, in Atlanta, last year.
Previous days had been filled with wedding dress fittings.
Georgia was now my daughter’s new home, and we had a wedding to plan there.
As we waited for our return flight home to Indiana, a storm had delayed multiple flights, and I sat among many desperately looking for places to charge their phones. People were packed into the small waiting area, with few seats, some on the floor, but everyone near a charging port that could find one.
One advantage, I had earlier found a seat that faced the windows.
The clouds began to roll in and the sun became the backdrop as it lowered into the sky.
Oranges, browns, maroon.
I’m always fascinated by sunsets, but this one was captivating.
I watched the planes take off, one by one; the sky dotted with many at one time.
Now the landscape seemed on fire.
And I watched each plane become a small, dark shadow as it faded into the large, glowing sun.
Ironically, I accidentally found these photos after watching the TV movie, United 93, today.
Once again, it brought back a lot of emotion.
Those people were just like us…
going about their business—
a normal day of flight thinking they’d arrive to their destinations.
Then, it all changed in a moment
well, many moments.
They were terrorized.
Watching death play out right in front of them.
Their calls home were so moving.
I can’t even imagine being the one listening on the other end.
Some came home to awaiting voice mails.
What heart-gripping sadness thinking…
They’re. Now. Gone.