I wrote this in the notes app on my phone on Thursday night, as I watched the Hulu documentary "One Day in America". I was overcome with emotion, grief, sadness, and pride for my city. Over the past nine years, I've written two-anniversary posts for this day and I've linked them below. 


Most years I just like to skip posting on the day and mourn in silence but with this big anniversary, I needed to get my emotions out in the best way I know how... writing. 

I remember the day so clearly. The sirens, the rush, the uncertainty. I was one of the first kids to be pulled out of class, 4th grade to be exact… my sister, friends, and I went to our friend’s house to wait it out. My dad worked at the NYSE, right in downtown Manhattan. We couldn’t get in touch with him. My friend’s dad worked near there too… it was utter silence. 

We watched on the tiny tv in the kitchen, the news, the planes crashing over and over again. I don’t remember being sad or scared, just wanted my dad home safe… too young to understand what was actually happening. It wasn’t until hours later, hours I don’t remember that my dad, covered in soot, sweat, and debris collapsed onto the front lawn. He had walked most of the way home. He sobbed into the grass as our neighbors stood outside and watched. 

I don’t remember anything after that. I do remember however, that’s when my anxiety started because my parents got us a dog the following month, to calm my nerves. I look back at 9/11 and am in awe at how it happened. How our world, our city, once so pure was tainted by this act of terrorism. I remember how the world looked onto New York in solidarity… how New Yorkers came together to honor each other, the heroes, and the fallen.

This was done to us and it was personal. I think this is when my pride in my city began when I fell in love with being a New Yorker. There’s something so magical about being a native, about remembering those dark days. Nothing unites New Yorkers the way 9/11 did. 

We were new york tough long before covid. Every year since 2002, I watch all the documentaries, have seen all the movies, and watch the reading of the names every year. We used to drive over the bridge in my neighborhood to get a good look at the blue tribute lights. It was tradition, it was reigniting a memory. 

It was important. 9/11 makes me somber, it makes me sad but it makes me love my city so much more than I ever have before. New York, I love you.  
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