Remember

9/11/2001:

• Office neighbors who never before communicated with us rush to tell us we must come see what they just saw on television.
• Another plane goes down and co-workers bolt from the building stating, "It's not safe."
• As unofficial office manager I panic and think, "I can't go. Customer service never quits."
• A straggling co-worker grabs me by my arm and points to my growing belly and says, "YOU need to leave NOW."
• Every radio station blares of terror
• I try to reach family members by cell phone and can't
• I cry as I hear my father telling friends over ham radio that he's trying to account for all of his children and in a panicked state can't remember my call-sign or catch a break in the airwaves to tell him I'm okay.
• Once home I sit on the couch and stare at the TV. Massaging the unborn baby in my womb wondering what I have done in bringing this tiny helpless child into this unpredictable and crazy world
• A friend calls and asks what I am doing about my son. My son? MY SON? Who is still at school and I have no idea if I'm "allowed" to go and get him so I can huddle up on the couch with those most dear to me and hide from this cold cruel world
• Planes and helicopters persist through the sky throughout the night. An ominous feeling looms. Are they friendly? Are they more terrorists? Why do they keep flying?

Fast-forward to today, 9/11/2009:

I've never been to the World Trade Center. Before or after that horrific day. I wasn't inside or that close to any of the sites where terror rained down. But I will never forget. I will never forget those who must have felt what I felt one hundred times more intensely. Those who perished as a result of the destruction. I will never forget those who were injured or worse, died as a result of trying to save those who were targeted. And I will never ever forget those who, to this day, are still fighting to stop what was started so long ago.