I want to thank Richard for allowing me to publish his wonderful, heart-warming stories.




(790 words of text)



During the evening of September 12 above New York City, there is a reason for laughter and joyous times. Yesterday’s terrible occasion in the Twin Towers is completely forgotten.


Now everyone is a participant in a blessed victory over death.


A large group of people are chatting and moving about. In their excitement, there is singing, laughing and hugging one another. A feeling of warmth and friendship helps provide a breath of new life.


Everyone is preparing for a grand dinner of celebration.


A feast of blessings covers the huge, well-prepared table for those wishing to indulge. Besides turkey, ham, dressings and salads, there is a pudding of Righteousness.


Also Fruits of the Spirit, Tongues of Peace with Turnips of joy, which help, excite tummies. Everything upon the beautiful mahogany table sits on glistening gold-rimmed bowls made from the finest Potter of them all.


In the lineup waiting his turn is Harry, now bald and badly burned. Once he had a shock of hair, thick as a wheat field. Now he chuckles about it.


Marie is patient for her turn and pirouettes around the floor. She can still do a perfect circle, this time with only one leg. Before September 11, her slim legs were the envy of all the bachelors in the neighborhood.


But no one seems to notice her missing limb.


And Janet smiles in her own memories. She looks with loving eyes at children of all ages scrambling for a place at the table. They are of every race and color, each with limbs maimed on their young bodies. Their excitement can barely be contained.


Many met as visitors before the Twin Towers dissolved into dust.


As everyone seats themselves the assembly of voices intermingle like the colors of a rainbow. Between mouthfuls of angel-prepared food, all are anxious to take turns sharing a story of triumph.


In the midst of memory there remains a smile, an upraised eyebrow. And within the midst of this special company, there is an absence of tears.


“I remember just before the first plane hit,” Bill says. “I was lifting a cup of my favorite coffee to my lips, then … BANG!”


“And not long after, the first of both towers fell,” another remarked.


“You should have seen me,” Annie interrupted with a hearty laugh. “People were pounding on my bathroom door. In a minute, I kept saying. How was I to know the whole place was going to fall down?”


“Daddy hugged me really tight, then kissed me on my forehead,” a little boy piped up. “He never did that before. Then we went flying out the window, like two Bald Eagles.

It was neat.”


A melee of voices spoke of challenges trying to escape the burning World Trade Center. None of those present made it to safety.


And now, here they were all together.


Some of the speakers lost their voices and did not speak for long. They missed those husbands, wives and children left behind. For time unending everyone knows they are the beginnings of a new family.


In this great room, tales of special circumstances come steadily from the mouths of dark and light skinned casualties.


These individuals represent many faiths, shapes and sizes. “And from over 100 countries around the globe,” someone whispered.


Just yesterday all sitting at this table were burned and broken in their bodies, but not in spirit. And before the end of this joyous celebration, miracles were to descend as gifts from the Creator above.


Each precious part of their bodies was reclaimed. Right down to the mole on Phil’s cheek. And everyone sitting together is in harmony, part of God’s abundant family.


Yesterday was September 11, a day of agony for so many. Then, they sat side by side as soon-to-be plane victims. Many others occupied space in the World Trade Center. So many firemen and policemen and health authorities were there too.


As tragedy struck, phone calls brought words of anguish as well as loving messages from one to another. Hurried steps joined with cries of alarm and chewing fingernails or lower lips became part of the scene.


Then a roaring fire and waves of smoke engulfed them all. When the Twin Towers fell, so many dreams were lost. And futures terminated in one rushing scream. And their past troubles were erased in one brief moment.


Now the meal is fully ended, and everyone reaches out. Hands clasp firmly, completing the circle of a caring family. Not bound by flesh, but their birthright is one of passion and common experience.


Heads bowed, prayers are said once more for dear ones left behind.


In God’s Dining Room, an abundance of Love can be found.


And humming voices are filled with Forgiveness.









© 2003 Richard L. Provencher

All Rights Reserved.     




About the author:



Richard L. Provencher was born Sept 10th 1942 in Rouyn-Noranda, Quebec, Canada. Experiences as a Miner, Sports Reporter, Welfare Officer, Social Services Administrator, and United Way Executive-Director, combine with a love of Nature to form the basis of his writing. Richard has many poems and short stories in print and Online. His novels/poetry/short story e-Books are available through http://www.a-wpublishing.com  Richard continues to write as he recovers from a stroke. He lives in Truro with his wife, Esther. They have four children.


Richard Laurent Provencher                                                           

81 Queen Street, Unit 6, Truro, Nova Scotia, Canada                       

B2N 2B2 Tel (902) 897-2344                                  

E-mail: [email protected]

Website: http://www.a-wpublishing.com






In Memory of NY Twin Towers 9-11



When My Mommy Cries (421 words of text)



I live in New York. It’s the biggest cite in America. Today I go back to school. So I can learn lots. Mommy says I have to.


My dress is blue. My Mommy and daddy bought it for me, for my seventh birthday.


I’m a big girl now. But Mommy says l can’t buy milk at the store downstairs by myself, any more, because daddy is gone away.


Daddy used to work in a high tower building. And then it fell down. That was on September, with two ones after it. 


Mommy says bad people made two planes crash. Into the building, I mean. That’s where my daddy used to work.


There was a fire. Daddy had to go put it out. Lots of smoke. I saw it on TV.


I was watching my favorite program. Then mommy came and hugged me. I spilt my hot chocolate all over the floor. All over my bunny slippers.


Mommy looked SO sad. At the TV, I mean. Not at me. Her eyes had lots of tears. Like a lake.


And she wiped her face really hard. Her cheeks were red like fire. Like on TV. “Don’t squeeze me tight,” mommy. I said.


When daddy gave hugs, he liked to squeeze too. But he’s not here anymore. Now when I go to sleep, only mommy comes. To hug and kiss me.


Mommy stays longer, than before. And we talk a lot.  About me and daddy. And mommy, too.


We play card games. Now I win more times. I think mommy lets me win on purpose.


Daddy used to laugh when I tickled his nose. Then he would grab my toes. And play, “This little Piggy went to market.” I liked that.


Now there is just me and mommy. All by ourselves.


In the morning, I still miss my daddy.


Mommy lets me brush my teeth first. Even if I take a long time. She sits on her bed. And waits. I try to go fast, fast.


Mommy stares at pictures of my daddy, and me. He looks so happy in them. There are lots of pictures. All over the house.


Mommy says daddy is in Heaven. I don’t know where that is. It must be a nice place. Because mommy says one day we will be together again.


Daddy and Mommy. And me, too.


Now I go to school.  I work real hard. I want daddy to be proud of me. I’ll never forget him.


Because when mommy cries, I remember my daddy.





© 2003 Richard L. Provencher

All Rights Reserved






September 9/11


Off to work, traffic heavy this am

burp of cereal a signal of what’s to come?


Elevator’s crowded, coffee hot and

Sally is pregnant, New York’s

North Tower accepts another day


work pile awaits, sun bright Tower Two

shimmers in glorious splendor.


Then the unthinkable, from the street

an imposing view, something

causes an explosion. A bomb? A plane?


Strumming feet are hasty on the stairwells

rushing down and down, not knowing

why, just move quickly to safety


all the time captive victims face flames

on the top floor, awake to

the crackle of approaching death


cell-phone cries of love to distant homes

families listen in terror, sad thoughts

memories of precious voices, and


a pair of shoes found at ground zero

escape not complete without a passenger.  


© 2002 Richard L. Provencher

All Rights Reserved

Website- http://www.a-wpublishing.com