Let us never forget 9/11

I’ll never forget this morning 8 years ago. I’ll never forget how blue the sky was when I woke up or how crisp the air was and how you could feel just a slight hint that Fall was coming. I’ll never forget putting on my skinny jeans and having them fit well and thinking this was going to be a great day. I’ll never forget hearing and feeling the impact of the first plane hit the tower and wondering “hmm what was that noise?” I was in Brooklyn and could still feel the impact. I’ll never forget hearing the report on the news as I was finishing my coffee about to leave for my morning commute into the city and thinking that this was just a terrible accident and I better hurry because it could mean a delay in the subways. I’ll never forget my best friend Mary coming over to pick up her art easel she had left when she moved out a few weeks earlier and us walking to the subway together. As we rode the subway I remember the worried looks on people’s faces when the F train was still above ground and we rounded the corner and saw the towers on fire. As we went below ground to head into the city the chatter got louder and word spread to us of what was happening. We were under attack. I’ll never forget that I could not even comprehend what that meant.

I’ll never forget the train stopping in lower Manhattan and police evacuating the stations, they obviously more aware than us of the severity of what just happened. I’ll never forget the feeling of panic that I was going to be late to work, how silly that seems now. I’ll never forget climbing the stairs of the subway station and the absolute horror of what I saw when I emerged; throngs of people standing still in a city that never stands still, taxis stopped in the middle of the road, everybody watching the towers burn. I’ll never forget the smell. Oh my god the smell. I’ll never forget watching the first tower collapse and uncontrollable tears sliding down my face as I turned to Mary and thought aloud “all of those people just died.” I’ll never forget the feeling of panic rising inside my stomach and burn my chest and the internal battle in my head trying to stay calm and think rationally about where to go and what to do as clouds of smoke were getting closer and more people began to panic and run. I’ll never forget the doctors lined up outside St. Vincents and the ambulances delivering nothing but bodies. No survivors. I’ll never forget the strength I found in my friend that day and the determination we had to get to a safe place and contact our families. And we did get home and let our loved ones know we were ok and it wasn’t until hours later we were able to process what just happened not only in New York but Washington and Pennsylvania. I’m still processing it.

I’ll never forget my roof vibrating all day and night in the days immediately following the attack as F-16’s flew over the city. I’ll never forget finding ash and papers in my tiny Brooklyn backyard as the smoke drifted our way. I’ll never forget the weeks that followed of people walking around looking like ghostly versions of themselves with hollow eyes and expressions of sorrow nobody could understand if you weren’t there. I’ll never forget the photos plastered all over the city, everywhere you looked there was a smiling face in a photo a loved one posted in desperate hope they would find that person alive. I’ll never forget the gut wrenching feeling knowing that those people were not found and weeks, months after that day you would still see the occasional photo posted and that feeling would flood you with sorrow again so quickly.

I’ll never forget that day and all those people that died in such a senseless act of terror. My thoughts are with their friends and families today and let’s never forget them.