Today is 9/11. I remember that day really well. I was working at my new job in suburban Philadelphia when the news came in. We all turned on our clock radios (Remember when people had clock radios?) to hear the reports. It was surreal. Some of my coworkers had spouses who worked in NYC and were frantic. I tried to call my BFF from college who worked and lived in NYC and traveled through the WTC every day and couldn’t get through. It was so scary.
They closed down our office and sent everyone home. Most of Philadelphia was shut down. The phones weren’t working and mass transit stopped running. My boyfriend at the time was working in the city. There were no trains and he walked to my apartment in the suburbs along with masses and masses of other people.
I knew one person who died that day. He was the brother-in-law of a different old boyfriend. We spent a week at his shore house once. I remember how much he loved surfing and his wife and daughter. He played the guitar and replaced words in songs with his daughter’s name. I didn’t know him well, but I always think of him when I think of 9/11. He was just one person among the thousands who died that day. It seems so senseless.
I can’t believe that it’s been 12 years.