Six years ago TheBoy and I were still trying to adjust to the transition from “summer fling” to “holy crap this could really be something”. He had just begun a job in the area and announced to his parents his plans to NOT return back to college to finish his senior year. We were already making future plans.
Six years ago I was working as a licensed real estate assistant and buyer’s agent. I LOVED my job and was looking forward to a long career in real estate sales. I felt like I had truly found my passion, the thing I was meant to do in life. I was working up the nerve to talk to my bosses, the experienced real estate agents, about taking on more responsibilities to increase business for myself as well as the team.
Six years ago I had just run my first marathon ever. I was at the beginning of my love affair with running and spent numerous hours training on the treadmill at my complex and researching weekend trail runs in the area with friends.
Six years ago.
Six years ago I came home from an early morning run to the news that a plane had lost its way and crashed into a building in New York. By the time I was out of the shower and on my way to my open house there had been two crashes, and no one was talking about an accident anymore. I spent the rest of that day watching the footage on the news, reading about it online and listening to my radio. I cancelled plans with a friend for the evening and stayed home to watch the towers fall, again and again.
Six years ago I didn’t believe something that horrible could really have happened. Terrorism was something I studying in history class in college, something we discussed in the abstract in my international studies program, something I read about in the paper. I prayed that day, and for many days after, for the first time in years. I called all of my loved ones to make sure they knew how I felt about them. I said "I love you".
It’s hard for me today to realize that is has been six years since that day. I’ve spent all day watching TV and reading all the articles I can find, I watched those towers fall again. Sometimes I feel guilty, for moving on with my life, for putting what happened that day in the back of my mind, for forgetting the tragedy and the heroics and the strength so many people showed. I don’t want to forget.
It is easy to get caught up in the day to day living of life, the new house, spending time with friends and family and how truly awful Britney’s comeback performance was… But today I remember. And it motivates me. I remember how passionate I felt then, how motivated I was to do something, anything to feel like I was doing my part. I remember the fear, the anger, the frustration and the sadness. I hope you all remember also.