It's been a while since I posted, but I couldn't let today go by without a post.
As I sat down at my desk this morning, I remembered sitting down here 12 years ago, turning on my PC and seeing the news. At that point, it didn't say how big a plane. I tried calling my sister who worked in 1 WTC on the 89th floor. I left a voice message, hung up and my phone rang. It was her, saying she was okay. It wasn't until a subsequent conversation that I learned she had only just been leaving home when the plane hit, so she never made it downtown. The day was filled with phone calls, assuring friends and family that she was okay. A year later, I was dating a member of the FDNY - my now husband. I spent some time with him that day, at his firehouse. Later, I went to meet my sister and some of her co-workers for drinks, as they celebrated being alive.
As the years go by, there will be more and more children growing up who were not alive on 9/11/01 or were too young to remember. We must never forget, we must make sure they know about the heroes that day. That they know good men and women risked their lives - gave their lives - to save others. That they know that good does triumph evil. And that they know that life goes on, people love again, laugh again, live again, life renews.
