It was a Tuesday – very similar to today. Clear blue stretched across the sky and autumn whispered its arrival on the cool air. I tuned in to see a smoking hole in the first tower and in shock watched the 2nd plane slice into tower two.

I heard someone scream and since I was the only one home, I knew it was me. I sat in stunned silence for the next few hours. Hot tears ran down my cheeks steadily.

I watched President Bush respond and listened as reporters then guessed where he was. I heard his critics begin a bit of bashing and I heard them back off. It was a time for political unity if only briefly. (I appreciated it and wish it could have lasted longer)

Then I saw the bombed Pentagon and smoking airplane parts in a scarred field diverted by a few brave souls who rode that silver bird into the ground rather than let other innocents die.

I continued to watch in horror. Our nation was under attack and we weren’t sure where it would end. I was sure of this: the enemy hated us. They wanted to kill as many of us at one time as they could.

When I thought it couldn’t get worse, the towers crashed in on themselves.

I’d gone from standing in front of the TV to my chair to my knees.

I watched daytime TV for days – I’ve never watched so much. I tried to get back to life and found myself staying tuned for just 5 more minutes…hoping for a miracle. My mind is imprinted with a flag raised in the smoke and ash in honor of the American spirit. There are the volunteers with rescue and then later cadaver dogs. I saw men and their faithful canines asleep on street curbs – getting just enough rest to go back into the mash of metal to find just one more. I watched bodies handed from one hero to another in quiet reverence in respect for the dead and the living.

I prayed for our President as he wrapped his arms around firemen, police, and grieving families. I knew the enemy saw the dead as their victims. America saw them as fallen heroes.

I remembered that 9-11 today…as I watched my puppies play – the sky above me safe from invaders – for now. I remembered today as I kissed my husband goodbye knowing many spouses wish they could. I remembered today as I visited my mom and drank coffee with her knowing many mothers are missing children they will not see again.

I don’t need to see the towers burning over and over again – it seems they will always burn and fall in my mind.

Years before they fell, I stood in on the sidewalk and looked up at them - tall and safe, glistening in the sunshine. Later, I saw them from the ferry where they looked like twin sentries watching over the City. Those memories collide as their once majestic beauty and the horror of Ground Zero battle for first place in my mind’s eye.

Ground Zero wins every time.

I’m not trying to punish myself or work up some kind of righteous anger at our enemies. I don’t choose one over the other and clearly remember both. It’s the human suffering that branded the results of the 9-11 attacks into first place in my memories. The ghost-like humans who ran, walked, and stumbled out of the clouds. It was people of all nationalities suddenly one color – ash. It was the sound of the falling as they landed. It was the sight of volunteers walking back into the debris - the horror of their earlier hours there already etched on their faces and their faces are somehow etched on my heart.

It’s not that I am determined not to forget – it’s that I can’t.

As a nation we have a new “norm.” It touches us all. We’re impacted in airports, watched on more video cameras, and walk around blockades placed at shopping Mall entrances. I don’t suspect every Muslim I see as a terrorist but I suspect they suspect I do.

It took awhile but I did return to the rhythm of my pre 9-11 life – mostly. Every now and then a jet roars over our house lower than usual and I look. Reason tells me the air is full of traffic and this one was directed to a lower place. Still, I hesitate even though I feel a little foolish letting that “what if” reside in my heart.

Today those who lost loved ones in the attacks and the following wars couldn’t help but remember. I hope they know we haven’t forgotten – that we remember their loss and hold their loved ones in high esteem. I hope someone tells them.