September 11, 2001 was the first day of the rest of my life. I was starting a new job. My first full-time job after graduating college. I was excited. I was tired when I woke up early to get ready.

And then the world fell apart. I can’t recall now exactly how I found out. My mom might have called me. Or I might have turned the Today Show on. I just remember sitting in front of the TV in disbelief. Staring at images of smoke pouring out of the World Trade Centers. Confused about what was happening.

And then hearing that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon. The Pentagon that was a hop, skip and a jump from my sister’s house at the time.

And then, suddenly, there was more smoke. Confusion. Did one of the towers just fall? Is that something that could ACTUALLY happen?

But I knew I had to get ready for work. To head off and start my new career.  I put a tape in the VCR, finished getting ready, and spent the rest of the day sitting through orientation and waiting impatiently for each break so that I could check in on the news. So that I could talk to my family.

I still can’t watch footage from that day. There’s a tape labeled “9/11 Coverage” that sits in a cabinet.  I’ll never get rid of it.  But I can’t say I’ll ever watch it.  I’ve only been back to New York, the city I love, the city I grew up just outside of, once since 9/11 and I’ve never been to Ground Zero. I honestly don’t know that I’d be able to go. To stand there. To remember what was. To remember the sheer magnificence of those two buildings. To remember the thousands of people who lost their lives there.  In that spot.

But today, I sit here with tears streaming down my face as I remember. I’ll always remember. We MUST always remember.

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