We will always remember. Who could possibly forget? I remember hearing the play-by-play of that tragic day unfold from weeping co-workers with tears and dismay pouring from their eyes. I remember trying to get to my teenage daughters. At the moment, work obligations took a back seat. I remember one daughter’s relief when I reached the school auditorium to pick her up. (Yes, Mommy made it to you.)
I remember the subway system being shut down and the city frozen in chaos, fear and grief. I remember hotels turning us away, for insurance purposes was my guess. I remember seeing a woman covered in debris. She had made her way from Downtown to Midtown on foot. She had no words to say, but her face said it all. I remember taking refuge at the home of a friend in the Bronx until my daughter and I could make our way back to Queens. I remember airplanes and sirens taking on new meaning. They told us of the possibility that we were under attack once more.
I remember always wanting to visit the Twin Towers but never making it there. I missed my opportunity. Who knew?
In all my remembering, what I remember most is being one of the lucky ones, to never take anything for granted and there is nothing more important than those you love, particularly when tragedy hits.
