19 years ago…
It wasn’t a town far away in a place I had never been.
It was my city, my community, my backyard.
It was my bookstore, my favorite subway station, my shopping mall.
The people that died were my neighbors.
It was months of dodging falling ash, tasting the burnt metal flavor in my mouth, feeling the rumble of machinery as the cleanup began. It was seeing the blue sky where the towers should have been and walking in sunlight where their shadows should have tread.
It was the daily fear that it would happen again.
So I will tell my story to anyone that will listen, so we don’t collectively forget. I will teach my children, so they understand their history. I won’t shy away because it stings.
And I will thank the Lord always that I got to live.
eatingwithsavages 
I have a cousin who had traveled there for a 9am meeting on the 89th floor of the north tower. Upon reaching the floor, none of his colleagues from the Washington office had arrived. I am told he went to a third floor cafeteria to have a coffee and wait until closer to meeting time. Long story short, he was one of the people who walked across a bridge out of Manhattan that day. He never speaks of it.
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So many near misses that day. I’m glad he made it out!
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