I usually don’t talk about 9/11. It was an unusually happy time in my family. We had all gone on a trip together for the first time ever to see my Uncle get married in the hometown of his wife to be. We all had a great time and the feelings of joy were still riding high.

I was looking out my window when the second plane hit. I was looking out my window when the building fell. I could smell smoke for days, weeks even. My cousin was in school nearby and we couldn’t get her on the phone for hours. I cried when I heard her voice in the house later that day.

I couldn’t see my boyfriend (now husband) because he couldn’t get to Brooklyn from Jersey. We had a lot of memories connected with those building. We traveled beneath them to spend time with one another. Those intense beginning stages were spent laughing through those halls. It was there that I found out that my first child was on the way. I spent more time in the Borders located there than in class some days.

I try to remember those times, the good times, everyday not just today.


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