...........
It was the second break that morning. I walked out of the classroom and pulled the cell phone from my pocket, flipped it open and pressed the call button. I thumbed through the menu until I found my wife's name. I pressed the call button again and waited.
"Hello?"
"Hey babe, what's going on?"
"It's time."
"What?"
"Mrs. Sato and I went for a walk and I think it's time. How fast can you make it to the hospital?"
"30-40 minutes, depending on traffic. I'll see you there!"
...........
I could not believe what I was seeing. The images on TV were just so wrong. I must have turned the TV to HBO or something. He assured me that I had not. This was really happening. They were stopping all the flights and he didn't know how or when he would get back. I told him I had to go, had to hurry, and would call him later. I dressed in the living room that morning, in front of the television, afraid to turn my eyes from the screen. When I left, I turned to NPR for coverage as I sped to work.
...........
I made it in 20. I haven't driven that fast in a long time. I don't remember, but I may have sprinted into the hospital. I "came to" at the nurses station on the 7th floor, asking for my wife's room number. She hadn't arrived yet. I stepped into the waiting area and called her again.
"You're already there???"
"Yeah, where are you?"
"We're just leaving now, we'll be there in 20 minutes."
And the waiting began...
...........
We sat around a radio all day, waiting for some sort of news. The planes were grounded, there could be no more attacks, right? Would they pull anyone from the rubble? Were there survivors? When would this day end so I could get home, watch the coverage and call my family?
............
It was time. My mother on one side and I on the other, supporting her, giving her our strength to push him out.
...........
It was time. I rushed home, calling family and friends on the way home. I sat alone that night, in front of the TV, watching a city and nation beg for strength to get past this.
...........
After they all left, I held him, slowly rocking in the chair. What would the future bring for him? What would he be when he grew up? Would he be protective of his sisters, or they protective of him? Would he be healthy and strong? So many questions.
...........
The room was still dark this morning when I picked him up to leave. On the television, the newscaster told us that it is still such a sad day. I kissed him on the temple and whispered in his ear, "No it's not. It's not a sad day for daddy anymore. Happy birthday, son."
