I often remark to myself that I will feel like the world is a better place when I can realize that I have gone a full day without being reminded of what happened here on September 11th, 2001. It seems there is always something that reminds me. Sometimes it is driving on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and looking at the (still stunning, but now also sad) lower Manhattan skyline. Sometimes it's seeing a plane fly low overhead and realizing that I never used to think that was an ominous sound. Sometimes it's seeing a guy on the street who reminds me of one of the group of high school friends who died that day. It's always something. Obviously, today is a day when one not only cannot help to remember, but one must remember.

I remember, too, September 10th. I was deeply depressed. I had been unemployed and occasionally freelancing since February, and a project I had expected to last longer had just ended. I was sad because I felt my boyfriend was never going to be ready to marry me. I went to the beach with my Mom and cried about all of this. And on the way home, I remember it was such a clear day that we could see the skyline and the WTC very clearly in the distance (about 35 miles away) when we crossed over the bridges on the Wantagh Parkway.

The next day, my whole world changed. I woke up on a beautiful cloudless day with nowhere to go. Ryan was sleeping next to me, and I didn't turn on the TV as I usually did, because I was enjoying the peace and quiet. It was my best friend's mother calling from Albany to see if I was home and OK who informed me of what was going on. I was barely 2 miles uptown and didn't hear a thing until then. After that we turned on the TV, and all my personal troubles were forgotten.

Three years later I'm married to the guy who would never commit, steadily employed and even in-demand from other companies. Life is good. But I still can't go a day without at least some brief moment of thinking about it.

May all who were lost rest in peace, and may all who feel lost now find their way home.