Eleven years ago, I was in my sunroom watching television with my five month old son. It was a gorgeous morning, blue skies without a cloud in the sky. My son was bouncing in his exersaucer, squealing with excitement and wonder as he spun the toys.
On television, the first tower was burning.
I'm fairly certain I was watching as the plane hit the second tower, although my memories are now clouded with what I watched in real time and what I watched on the news for days following the attacks.
I remember looking at my baby, thinking his precious life will never be as easy as mine had been up until that moment. His world would know so much more fear, uncertainty and vulnerability than mine ever did. My heart broke for him because at that very moment, it hit me that his life would be so much harder than the one I envisioned for him.
Our world, as we knew it, would never be the same.
Many hearts broke that day, all over the world. Tears fell and eyes couldn't believe the horror they were seeing on television. And hundreds of eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing right in front of them.
Growing up right outside New York City, this attack was very close to home. And I'm still surrounded by friends who can vividly recall 9/11 because they were there. They walked across the bridges to get home to their families and they reported for duty when duty called.
This day is an annual reminder of what's important. More than anything, every day, our humanity should always come before anything else.
Rest in Peace to all who perished. You will never be forgotten.
Where were you when you watched the news coverage? What do you remember?
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