Seven Years Later

I fell asleep last night distinctly aware of what today's date would be. I was downtown last night and as I made my way to the train looked up and noticed the lights that were shining skyward where the towers had once been. The tangible reminder of what had happened seven years ago jarred me. I thought I would awaken and feel some of the emotions I felt that day and the days that passed after.

I did wake up with a feeling of urgency and desire to hide. I didn't go about my morning routine the way I normally did; I opted to laze around a bit, finish reading a book and clean my home instead. I also opted not to watch the news. I had no desire to be reminded full on of the date-- of 9/11-- and what had happened.

I remember/relive that day in 2001 when this time of year rolls around. The blissful ignorance of boarding a train in Queens for my job in downtown Manhattan, the annoyance of what I believed was a delayed commute, the disbelief when I rose above ground, the fear of being trapped in Manhattan as the towers crumbled, the exodus across the Queensboro Bridge praying I would make it home, watching the gray clouds billow above and out to the sky, the terror of hearing helicopters and planes above, the tearful relief that I was had made it back safely and the grief that so many others had not.

So each year, I do the same thing to remember instead of relive: I say a prayer, thank the higher power and those that guide and protect me that I'm alive to reflect and give thanks and ask that those who were senselessly lost are, as well as their families, remembered today and always.