Back then, it was just the two of us.

At the wedding of one of my best friends. Circa 2001.

As I write this, I am snuggled up on a friend’s couch between my two youngest 2 kids.  Eleven years ago, I didn’t have these friends, these two kids, this life.  11 years ago today, I was in a very different place.

September 11, 2001, I was late for work, and when I got into our small office of four people, I saw my three co-workers huddled around a small TV set.  “Looks like someone in a little plane got off course and hit a building in New York,” one said.  I remember thinking – that that was crazy, and that people should get way more training before being allowed to fly those little planes.  Then I settled into my desk, and a second co-worker shouts, “What?! Another one? Now this is just strange.” So then I start thinking, well, maybe it was some kind of air traffic control issue – someone is getting fired.

Everything after that was a blur.  I lived in Maryland, but worked in downtown DC back then.  Eventually the reports of the Pentagon being hit came in, and quiet panic set in.  At the time, I was a single mother of a toddler, and all I could think of was how I was going to get to him.

I got to work on the train, and traffic in DC was a nightmare on a regular day – who knew how it would be after a terrorist attack.  My supervisor and her husband drove me from DC to the metro station in Greenbelt so that I could get my car.  They were worried that the trains would be another target.  I got my son from the daycare, and we made it home.  I didn’t have cable at the time, cell phones were down, and my dial up internet service was iffy at best, painfully slow at worst.

I managed to check on the few people I knew that were in the area, and they either didn’t go to work that day, or were nowhere near the area when the attack happened.

Eventually the sniper panic of 2002 replaced the terrorist panic of 2001.  Once the message went out that the “sniper” said that our children weren’t safe, I sent my son to Georgia to stay with his grandmother, and looked into a football helmet to wear while I pumped gas.  (I got the letter that my mom wrote to tell me to send him to her when I got back from dropping him off.)  I don’t remember anything about the day before the attack or the day after.  But THAT day – I will never forget.

Working on letters for my niece’s wall. The family just keeps growing!

I probably won’t forget this day either. As September 10th became September 11th, I was finishing up painting and decorating my niece’s room, and I heard her stirring and whimpering in the other room.  I picked her up and I could hear my mom’s voice saying, “this is life.” She always left out “the” in that, and I always thought it was because she wasn’t from here.  When I think about it now, she’s right.  This isn’t THE life… this IS life.  Being with family and friends, supporting one another, and making memories – that IS life.

Now these guys have joined our family!

I encourage you to remember and honor those who lost their lives in the attacks, and those whose families will never be the same, by cherishing your family and friends that are here with you now.