"Remembrance” by Devon McDaniel
Oh, the joys of waking up. For some, it is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sun peeking through the curtains, or the dog licking your face, happy to see you. For Elena Burnham, however, waking up was the screams of her almost one-year-old baby after a night of troublesome sleep. She could never manage to remember her nightmares, but she could feel their effect the following mornings. Her husband, Ben, moaned beside her, mumbling something about “her turn” or whatnot.
Elena basically rolled out of bed, slipped her glasses on, and ripped off the bedside calendar. Tuesday, again, except one week later. She doubted this September day would be any different than all of the other days in New York, although she did have a rather important meeting that morning. Groaning, she ambled to the nursery.
Shh, shh, shh, Elena whispered as she cradled little Catherine in her arms. She had never loved someone so much. She started to hum her own mother’s lullaby, and the baby started to drink from her bottle. In that moment, Elena could see Catherine going to her first day of school, sheepishly confessing to starting puberty, getting her first boyfriend with freckles and braces, dressing up for the Junior Prom, graduating high school and college, then getting married to a wonderful man like her father. As tired as she was, Elena treasured these small moments, knowing that Catherine would be grown up before she could blink.
“You should probably go shower, dear,” a deep voice behind her said. Ben wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, bending down to kiss her neck. Even with her morning stench, she was beauty and grace. She was also going to be late for work pretty soon.
“Five more minutes,” Elena said sweetly, turning into her husband. He was her rock, and she knew that their lips would always fit together perfectly. She used to wonder if her life was too good to be true, but Elena had grown accustomed to the life that she had somehow attained.
***
The World Trade Center was bustling on that Tuesday morning. However, it was in fact bustling on every Tuesday morning and every other morning for that matter. Elena fiddled for her ID while trying to juggle two other bags other than her purse. She had spent her entire commute studying the material for the various meetings being held that day, trying to decide which to focus her energy on.
“Mrs. Burnham, could you sign these real quick?” Elena’s intern handed her a pen accompanied by few papers, likely the recommendations she had written a few days earlier.
“What’s the date?” Elena hadn’t noticed on the calendar earlier, which was unusual somehow. Working in the World Trade Center had its perks, and one of them was always knowing the date and time down to the minute.
Glancing at her calendar, the intern replied hesitantly, “The 12th, I’m pretty sure. No, it’s the 11th, sorry, and it looks like you’re on the 94th floor first today. The meeting starts a quarter ‘til nine.”
“Thank you, I’m headed up there right now.” With that, Elena joined the group of people waiting the elevators.
Another perk to working in the World Trade Center happened to be the view, which Elena thoroughly enjoyed every day. She had made it a life goal a few years back to be more consumed with the little blessings in life, and so far, her life had been a little happier every day.
“Elena, how nice to see you again,” a scruffy voice said to her right. Turning, Elena greeted a rather stout man named Timothy Garner. He was the sort that had never seen a treadmill but only because he had poured his heart and soul into his work. Elena found a certain respect for that.
Other members of the committee trickled into the room as well- Hines Fairwell, a lanky businessman from Philadelphia; Georgia Procter, a tightly-wound attorney from Manhattan; Louis Bergmann, a grandfatherly man from Staten Island; and so on. It had always amazed Elena how many different personalities could work together and accomplish a goal. Looking around the room, almost everyone had bags under their eyes, but not a single one seemed genuinely unhappy.
After a few minutes, the chair of the committee strode in and, to no one’s surprise, instigated the agenda immediately with a loud, “I commend this meeting to begin at oh-eight forty-six, September 11, 2001.”
***
The screams of the baby awoke Elena Burnham. She felt a gentle nudge from her husband, mumbling something about it being her turn. Trying to recover from the troublesome sleep she had been experiencing lately, she let her eyes adjust to the light. Elena could never manage to remember her nightmares, only that they were something straight from Hell itself. In some sense, she found comfort in not knowing, however sometimes, she wished she knew what exactly was so rudely interrupting her peaceful slumber.
Elena basically rolled out of bed, slipped her glasses on, and ripped off the bedside calendar. Tuesday, again, except one week later. She doubted this September day would be any different than all of the other days in New York, although she did have a rather important meeting that morning. Groaning, she ambled to the nursery.
Oh, the joys of waking up. For some, it is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sun peeking through the curtains, or the dog licking your face, happy to see you. For Elena Burnham, however, waking up was the screams of her almost one-year-old baby after a night of troublesome sleep. She could never manage to remember her nightmares, but she could feel their effect the following mornings. Her husband, Ben, moaned beside her, mumbling something about “her turn” or whatnot.
Elena basically rolled out of bed, slipped her glasses on, and ripped off the bedside calendar. Tuesday, again, except one week later. She doubted this September day would be any different than all of the other days in New York, although she did have a rather important meeting that morning. Groaning, she ambled to the nursery.
Shh, shh, shh, Elena whispered as she cradled little Catherine in her arms. She had never loved someone so much. She started to hum her own mother’s lullaby, and the baby started to drink from her bottle. In that moment, Elena could see Catherine going to her first day of school, sheepishly confessing to starting puberty, getting her first boyfriend with freckles and braces, dressing up for the Junior Prom, graduating high school and college, then getting married to a wonderful man like her father. As tired as she was, Elena treasured these small moments, knowing that Catherine would be grown up before she could blink.
“You should probably go shower, dear,” a deep voice behind her said. Ben wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, bending down to kiss her neck. Even with her morning stench, she was beauty and grace. She was also going to be late for work pretty soon.
“Five more minutes,” Elena said sweetly, turning into her husband. He was her rock, and she knew that their lips would always fit together perfectly. She used to wonder if her life was too good to be true, but Elena had grown accustomed to the life that she had somehow attained.
***
The World Trade Center was bustling on that Tuesday morning. However, it was in fact bustling on every Tuesday morning and every other morning for that matter. Elena fiddled for her ID while trying to juggle two other bags other than her purse. She had spent her entire commute studying the material for the various meetings being held that day, trying to decide which to focus her energy on.
“Mrs. Burnham, could you sign these real quick?” Elena’s intern handed her a pen accompanied by few papers, likely the recommendations she had written a few days earlier.
“What’s the date?” Elena hadn’t noticed on the calendar earlier, which was unusual somehow. Working in the World Trade Center had its perks, and one of them was always knowing the date and time down to the minute.
Glancing at her calendar, the intern replied hesitantly, “The 12th, I’m pretty sure. No, it’s the 11th, sorry, and it looks like you’re on the 94th floor first today. The meeting starts a quarter ‘til nine.”
“Thank you, I’m headed up there right now.” With that, Elena joined the group of people waiting the elevators.
Another perk to working in the World Trade Center happened to be the view, which Elena thoroughly enjoyed every day. She had made it a life goal a few years back to be more consumed with the little blessings in life, and so far, her life had been a little happier every day.
“Elena, how nice to see you again,” a scruffy voice said to her right. Turning, Elena greeted a rather stout man named Timothy Garner. He was the sort that had never seen a treadmill but only because he had poured his heart and soul into his work. Elena found a certain respect for that.
Other members of the committee trickled into the room as well- Hines Fairwell, a lanky businessman from Philadelphia; Georgia Procter, a tightly-wound attorney from Manhattan; Louis Bergmann, a grandfatherly man from Staten Island; and so on. It had always amazed Elena how many different personalities could work together and accomplish a goal. Looking around the room, almost everyone had bags under their eyes, but not a single one seemed genuinely unhappy.
After a few minutes, the chair of the committee strode in and, to no one’s surprise, instigated the agenda immediately with a loud, “I commend this meeting to begin at oh-eight forty-six, September 11, 2001.”
***
The screams of the baby awoke Elena Burnham. She felt a gentle nudge from her husband, mumbling something about it being her turn. Trying to recover from the troublesome sleep she had been experiencing lately, she let her eyes adjust to the light. Elena could never manage to remember her nightmares, only that they were something straight from Hell itself. In some sense, she found comfort in not knowing, however sometimes, she wished she knew what exactly was so rudely interrupting her peaceful slumber.
Elena basically rolled out of bed, slipped her glasses on, and ripped off the bedside calendar. Tuesday, again, except one week later. She doubted this September day would be any different than all of the other days in New York, although she did have a rather important meeting that morning. Groaning, she ambled to the nursery.