We were in Lexington KY when the call came. I heard the phone ring, but couldn't find the phone quickly enough to answer it. When I listened to the message, I immediately turned on my computer. Our neighbor called to say a small plane crashed on our block. He said our house was fine. In fact, somehow through whatever version of divine intervention you believe in, no homes were hit.
Now that we're home I'm very glad we were in Lexington when the plane crashed. Everyone from the neighborhood was at the crash site. The pictures were horrible. The stories were worse.
A fifth grade boy down the block talked about finding body parts on his front lawn. He said he saw plane parts everywhere. He closed by telling us that he was afraid to go to sleep and loud noises frightened him. He shuffled back and forth staring at his shoes. He said he didn't think he wanted to go to a haunted house this Halloween. It was heartbreaking.
Another neighbor was one of the first people at the crash site. He said it didn't look real. He likened it to a movie set. He walked through looking for survivors, but quickly realized no survivors would be found.
Other neighbors talked about the sounds as the plane passed over and the crash sounds. They looked grim when they talked about the days after when the neighborhood was blocked and you showed an ID to get past the police stationed at each end. It was all so overwhelming.
The strangest part was driving by the crash site for the first time. There were flowers and candles set-up as a memorial. There were some marks on the ground where the plane hit. Amazingly enough, there were no other signs of the crash. Somehow the plane went down without taking out even a street sign. I was told that a tree was hit, but I couldn't tell you where it was.
The neighbors who were here have a common story, which is gratitude. We are sorry that the three doctors in the plane died, but everyone is truly thankful that the plane didn't crash into a house.