I remember wishing the day would just be over...wishing it was all a bad dream...wishing it was the 12th. Yet, here I am 10 years later...on the 12th and I still feel the same way. I still have trouble watching any of the footage or any of the tribute programs that have been airing the past few weeks. I want to watch...I think it's important to remember all those feelings, to remember those who lost their lives, those first responders, the families whose loved ones never came home. I remember wishing I could do something to help...to make it better. I remember wanting to be with my family. I remember at the time working for an organization that thought it more important to "get back to work" than to focus on the day's events, shrugging it off as if it was no big deal. Well, it was a big deal, it changed our lives...forever. My sister and I had taken a trip to Manhattan just 5 months before that fateful day. Years later the husband and I would spend a week there...and visit the site where the towers once stood. The fliers for 'missing persons' still attached to the construction covered sidewalks and stuck in fencing. What I remember most about being there those years later was the awkward silence...amongst the bustle. And so, as the decade has passed...I am still wrought with emotion, still deeply saddened...overwhelmed, and still amazed by the human...American spirit.
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