It's that time of year again. It's the 9th anniversary of the attack on our country by Al Quaeda. We all know where we were on that day and the memories and fears all come rushing back.
That morning, I was undecided about whether I should go to the book store in the World Trade Center or try to get a new pair of shoes. Fortunately, I opted to buy shoes in a store one block from the WTC when the first plane hit. Since I remembered the time the plane flew into the Empire State Building, I didn't think much of it. The manager of the store felt otherwise and closed the store. I then walked to my office.
I was in my office on the 21st floor on the other side of Manhattan Island when the second plane flew into the other tower. My building shook on impact. Then we knew we were under attack. Not knowing what would happen next, we walked down to the street and evacuated the building.
After milling around for a little while, I decided to walk up to my train at Grand Central Station in midtown. I was living in the country then and just wanted out of the city. Fortunately, I missed the collapse, I was about halfway to the train.
My son in Seattle called every number he had for me and my other son who was working on a construction site in Brooklyn where he was watching everything through binoculars. He was watching the "debris" fall from the building when he realized that what he thought was the "debris" was wearing a suit and tie and was a person jumping from the building. We were all fine.
We all finally got in touch with each other which was very reassuring. I spent the rest of the day calling everyone I knew to reassure that everyone was OK.
It was a horrific day, one which I will never forget, nor will I ever get over the fear and anxiety of that day. I thought it had gotten easier, but I was watching a show on the History Channel last night and had to take several breaks.
If I'm so bothered by it, I wonder how the workers who were in the towers that day have managed to go on.