September 11, 2001

Disclaimer: I did not lose a loved one that day, nor am I personally affiliated with any of the first responders, (FDNY, NYPD, etc.).  The loss I've written about here is different from that of someone who lost someone that day.  It's about that day for me as someone who grew up in New York City, and spent that day wondering if my loved ones were all safe.

I was seven months pregnant.  I had just recently finished my first year of teaching in Framingham, MA, and because I knew I wanted to be a stay at home mom for a while, I resigned from my teaching position to keep another teacher from being cut.  That gave me a somewhat carefree summer, enjoying my first pregnancy, which ended up requiring quite a few trips to the doctor for regular monitoring.  Serena was small, and my doctor was afraid that there might be something wrong. There wasn't.  She's just the right size.  Always has been - but the doctors didn't know that yet.

My regular morning routine was to wake up with Dishon, have breakfast with him, see him off to work, and go back to sleep.  I was in the middle of my morning nap when Dishon called, and told me to turn on the television.  I was in disbelief for a long time.  By that time, the second plane had just hit, and I just stared at the screen.  Dishon and I didn't say much to one another - I tried to describe to him what I was seeing, since I don't think he was near a television, and then I got off to call my family in New York City to make sure that everyone was okay.

My dad and sister worked (still work - my dad, just until the 28th, when he will retire) downtown

Manhattan, not very far from the World Trade Center (update: my sister passed away suddenly on January 26, 2019).  I was able to get my mom on the phone, who, at the time, was working at Brooklyn Criminal Court downtown Brooklyn.  My sister watched from the street as people jumped from the towers, and she repeatedly heard distress calls of "officer down" from a nearby radio.  I told my mom that the south tower didn't look right to me.  It looked slanted, and I was worried that it might fall, and what that might mean for my dad and sister.  Sadly, right as we were talking, the first tower collapsed.  My dad and sister were not able to get back to Brooklyn over the Brooklyn Bridge.  They stopped letting people cross, because so many people were going over the bridge that it began to sway.  My dad and sister both walked back to Brooklyn over the Manhattan Bridge.

I still can't believe it.  Eleven years later, and my heart still feels heavy.  I think the memorial is beautiful, and yet, I still have a problem accepting the new skyline.  I worked in 6 World Trade for two summers during my college breaks - the first summer for the US Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC), and the following summer for the EEO of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF).  That second summer, the EEO was gone most of the time, and didn't leave much for me to do, so I'd entertain myself by riding the elevator in the Twin Towers up and down . . . I also spent a good deal of time in the underground mall area, and walking through to the World Financial Center to check out the shops, and have lunch by the water sometimes.  My favorite thing was to sit out on the WTC plaza and enjoy the weekly summer jazz festivals after buying lunch from the lunch trucks nearby.  The following summer, I worked a few blocks away, but would still come to the plaza.  I loved the World Trade Center area - walking down to South Street Seaport sometimes, and then returning to work in 6 World Trade . . . shopping in Century 21.  I vividly remember a second grade field trip to the observation deck and how terrified I was to look down.  It was so scary to be up that high.  Dishon and I got married on the roof of my parents' apartment building in 1997. It was right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Twin Towers grace the backdrop of our wedding video.  I remember Dishon and I enjoying a romantic evening sitting together on the promenade in off of Montague Street in Brooklyn.  I loved that skyline.  I'm having a hard time embracing another.

On that beautiful September morning, that area of the city became something else - dark and horrific, but I also think about all the heroism that was displayed on that day, and it makes the memory of it a little easier to bear.  I am thankful that I didn't lose anyone that day, but so many other people did, and it hurts to think about it.  It hurts so much.  Most of the time when I go down to visit my family on my own, I take Amtrak, and my parents pick me up from Penn Station.  To get to where they now live in/on Staten Island, we drive down the West Side highway.  When we pass by where it all happened, I ache inside.  I don't think that will ever go away, really :(.