9/11 in my America

On 9/11 I went to the corner store around 3:00 PM to get a pack of smokes. The store is a rather dingy little deal, with everything under the sun for sale. They have everything you need, from male enhancement to fried chicken , and it is filled with a Victorian display of goods.  The counter is cluttered with energy drinks and pills and an assortment of water pipes and rolling papers.      There was an old woman at the counter when I entered, paying for her goods. She moved almost in slow motion as she pulled the bills from her dilapidated wallet. She was very thin and her clothes hung from her, highlighting her bony joints. She was wearing a worn and faded dark blue sweater in the 90 degree heat and her long hair, dyed brown by cigarette smoke ,fell over it, fanning out in feathered strands.    The proprietor, a young Indian or Paki man, was offering to carry out her groceries for her as he packed them. She repeatedly turned his offer down as she slowly peeled bills out of her wallet. When the transaction was done he started to hand the bags to her, hanging them from her hands and arms. She grasped the bags in her bone thin hands with a slight shake that made them slightly swing.   The last bag had a gallon of milk and orange juice in it and as he lifted it he felt the weight of it. He warned her that it was very heavy and as he did he told her that he would come around and carry it to her car for her. I was about to take the bags  when a weathered and rather gruff looking working guy, in line ahead of me , moved in.  He stepped forward suddenly and  reached out taking the heavy bag from his hands. “Hey, I’ll get them” he said, as he reached past her . He peeled the lighter bags from her hands and guided her towards the door, groceries in both hands.              As he went out the door, the young gentleman at the counter motioned me forward and I hesitated as he did. I didn’t want to line jump on the guy who had just  carried the old woman’s groceries out and looked around awkwardly.  He motioned at me again and I stepped up to the counter and told him what I needed.  As I was paying the rough looking guy  re-entered the store, bringing the heat back in with him through the swinging door.    The proprietor thanked him for helping her and told him that she was very old and ill. He told him that they had to pump her gas when she came and he feared that her condition was worsening. He thought, he said, that she did not have much time left and they tried to take care of her. The man who had carried her things out assured him that it was no problem as I picked up my smokes and walked out.      That is  9/11 in my America; the America that I want to live in.  It really sucks that it only exists in my small town corner store and not across our nation. I write this with a great deal of sadness and it has taken me two days to put this to paper.  Instead of helping the old lady at the corner store, I have to view my fellow Americans as enemies. I arm myself for war as politics, agenda and policy turn us against each other, brother on brother.  We are no longer American, we are left and right, pro and con, for or against.  We have become so divided that 9/12, the day after 9/11, will never exist again; that day when we were all Americans united.      The 9/11 that existed in that store , unfortunately, only exists in that store and maybe a few more here and there. It is a sad day for America when we must become enemies instead of helping each other, but that is where we are today.      Lock and load.

4 responses to “9/11 in my America

  1. Reblogged this on LadyRaven's Whisky In A Jar – OH! and commented:
    And she weeps…

  2. yes that is what i identify here in south africa we dont see that type of compassion anymore

  3. helping someone with no chance of reward is the greatest reward in life

  4. I think you were mistaken on 9/12. There were people in our country celebrating the destruction and others saying we deserved what we got.
    Most of us did pull together. But there is a liberal cancer underneath America, down to the core. The cancer has to be eradicated. But worry not. In the Revolutionary War, we had Tories living here, working against us too. Excise the cancer. The sooner we start, the more we can save and better the nation will be in the long run.

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