Resharing this post from last year. May we all take a moment today to remember all that was lost 13 years ago.
It was three days before my eighteenth birthday. I was a senior in high school. I got up, went to take a shower and turned on the radio in the bathroom, just like usual. As I washed and brushed and primped, I listened to the radio host say that they had just received news of a plane crashing into the World Trade Center building. In my young, naive mind, I pictured a small biplane, some sort of personal aircraft gone awry. I had no concept of what the WTC building was. I certainly didn’t picture a towering skyscraper.
It was only a few minutes later, as I was pouring my bowl of cereal, that my mom came running into the kitchen in her bathrobe, telling me to “Turn on the TV! We’re being attacked!” I didn’t understand. We? Our house? Then the realization of what she meant slowly dawned. We…
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