Ten years ago, I was getting ready to go to work. I was running late for some reason that is lost to the years. As I was walking toward the tv to turn it off, Good Morning American was showing a tight, live shot of a building smoking. In the rushed minutes I stopped in listened. They were reporting that it was a small, most likely Cessna-type plane, had hit the North Trade Tower.
I grabbed my purse, and went to work. The car ride was any other drive to work. Thoughts and talks of things that have become completely irrelevant. The news story I had turned off in a rush was already gone from my mind.
As I walked to my desk and started to settle there was a lot if conversation. Rushed words, comings and goings. And then someone said:
“Another plane hit the other tower, this is an attack”
I didn’t know what to think. An attack? On our soil? By planes? I was lost, as were the rest of us.
What happened next I do not have to recount. It happened to all of us. Shock. Fear. Outrage.
That day, in the frightened calls from family and the shared reaction from my coworkers, a thought that I keep hearing in my mind. This is our Pearl Harbor. This is history. I have to watch. I have see. I have to know. I have to remember.
10 year later, I remember and I will never forget.