Nine years ago

I woke up to a quiet apartment on Sept 11th, with a little baby boy nestled in bed with me. I lazily stretched, and the boy open his eyes to smile at me. I patted his blond head and smiled as he closed his eyes again.

As I carried him to the car to head to Grandma’s to drop him off, I could sense unease with the day. As I started the car, the radio started up, but instead of music, panic and confused voices were emanating from my speakers.

“a plane has crashed into the side of one of the towers….”

As I drove, I could feel silence in the world. Other drivers were all staring at their radio’s, or just looking blankly into the air. It felt like a world full of zombies.

As I entered Grandma’s house to drop off the little boy, I saw the images on her TV for the first time. Grandma could barely speak, and I had to hug her to keep her from falling on the floor. The destruction and mayhem was too much to comprehend.

As I arrived at work, I went straight to my girlfriend and we just sat and stared at the news on the television. We held hands and cried as the towers fell.

I left work with her after only a few hours. We wanted our little family to be together, as if it may be the last time.

Nine years later. A day that I will always remember with sadness for the loss of life, and also for the bravery of those few that saved so many. I was in NYC in 2008 and saw the memorial the city built to honor those that lost their lives that day. I then went the the firehouse station that was the closest to the World Trade Center,( most of the fireman at the station perished) which I tried to capture in this little clip

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?