Today is the 8th anniversary of 9/11. I think none of us can help but remember where we were on the morning of September 11, 2001.
I was on my way to work when I first heard what was going on. I turned on the radio and thought Aaron must have switched the station, because it was a news feed instead of my usual morning show. Then I listened more closely and heard them talking about how a plane had just crashed into the side of the World Trade Center. I was listening when suddenly they started shouting about a 2nd plane crashing into the south tower.
When I got to the office, I rushed inside to get to my computer and try to find out more about what was happening. Inside, they had the TV on watching everything that was going on. The whole office gathered in the conference room and watched as more and more unfolded. We heard about the plane that hit the pentagon, the hijacking of Flight 93. We watched as the towers fell. All horrible moments, but I'm glad that I was not alone watching it. For those moments, we were all a family comforting each other as best we could.
After a few hours, they closed the office and sent us all home. I remember going back to our apartment and sitting on the couch, glued to the TV. I remember calling my mom... because when something awful happens, you want your mom. We didn't say much, because there was nothing we could say. But it helped just to make that connection.
For a couple of days we were glued to the TV. We watched coverage pretty much 24/7. We worried about what would be next. And then we turned off the TV because we just couldn't take it any more. Eight years later, I still remember it all so clearly. And eight years later, we still tend to avoid the TV on 9/11 because we know they will rehash it all. They will show the footage of the planes and the towers again. And we still can't take it.