I was heading into my office in Brooklyn, where we can see the towers from our hall windows, when a colleague met me at the door and said -- there's been an accident -- a plane has hit the world trade center. I knew instantly that it was not an accident, (the WTC had been targeted before). I called my son's dad immediately to determine he was safe at school, then started calling others. We watched things unfold on TV, our computers, and out the window. When I saw Tower 1 collapse, I ran to retrieve my kid and head home to try and contact family and friends. It was a terrifying and disorienting day. The city was silent - no planes, trains or cars. Even in Brooklyn, the air was thick with paper and ash and the smell was like no other. I was totally numb.
I lost 3 people I knew that day including the father of my son's best friend. The firehouse in my neighborhood lost 11 firefighters.
It feels insignificant to say that I remember and mourn. We are still recovering from the trauma. Sometimes I wonder if we ever will, and if some of the horrors I see happening around me are a result of collective trauma.
Heart (broken)
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