I believe this day will be to our generation what the shooting of JFK was to the previous generation. Even twelve years later, when the anniversary is upon us, you still feel the collective sigh. Everyone who remembers that morning. Everyone who still wonders why. Even twelve years later, people still talk about where they were the day the towers came down and the country came to a halt.
I was living in Seattle’s Greenlake community the day the planes hit the World Trade Center. I tuned in to the news as soon as my alarm blared, groggy from the evening’s rest, just minutes before cameras caught the crash of the second plane. I left for work in a daze, along with the usual flow of fellow commuters, a barrage of calls from family and friends pouring in. I was docked pay for being late.