Yes, I remember

I always remember what I was doing on this day seven years ago. I had moved to New Jersey from New York, though occasionally I commuted there working with a non-profit theater group. I had just dropped off my daughter off at daycare at the local YMCA and I flipped on the radio. I did a double-take at the station because instead of the typical music, blaring commercials, and djs, it was an AM newsfeed. I remember hearing World Trade Towers and plane, but not quite understanding what was going on. I remember hurrying back and flipping on the TV and all the channels showing the the Twin Towers with a flaming, gaping hole.

I remember when the first tower collapsed--the horrified gasping and terrified shrieking from the crowds near the camera crew. Or was it from the newsroom? Or me? I watched in a paralyzed shock as the second tower came down.

I remember bits and pieces from that day, the newsguys with the map showing that all planes were grounded, that there was another plane that crashed at the Pentagon, and a fourth that crashed in Pennsylvania diverted from the Capitol? I remember reaching my sister who worked near the World Trade Center in Wall Street, and relieved that she had woken up late that day. I remember reaching Paul who was in Irvine, CA, getting ready as we were going to move there a few weeks later, and telling him the terrible news. I remember crying.

I remember donating money at my local gym for another member, Lisa Beamer, who lost her husband, Todd, in the Flight 93 crash. (It eventually came to light that he and others had played a role in diverting that fourth plane.)

In the following days, I remember that no channel was playing anything but the newsfeeds and that I was dying for some levity in those grave days (I remember it eventually came in the form of the Larry Sanders Show on a Friday night). I remember that my friends who worked downtown luckily avoided disaster (I clearly remember one was at the dentist's)--especially two who worked at the World Trade Center (one, who worked at 1 WTC, was late and got to the lobby as people were rushing out, the other was a temp at 7 WTC, and was told not to come in that day). I remember the ones who worked downtown had vivid memories of the dark ashes and flying papers. And I remember one who was right outside the Towers during the crash who had a harrowing memory of horrors darkly and grimly raining down.

I remember going into the city soon after and thinking how weird it was not to see the World Trade Towers anymore. And in its place was a smoldering hole. I remember that a thin stream of smoke seemed to be coming from the site for days. I remember the streets felt emptier. I remember that sense of helplessness of wanting to go down to the World Trade site and do something to help but that due to the overwhelming number of people they had to turn folks away (though I do remember my friend and her family were able to serve hamburgers to the crews digging in the rubble).

I remember Union Square Park with makeshift memorials. I remember the numerous flyers, with pictures of folks in happier times with a spouse, partner, friends, kids or pets, pleadingly asking, Have you seen me?

I remember that the city and the nation collectively grieved the thousands of lives that were lost that day.

My heart aches thinking back on September 11, 2001. I remember, I remember, I remember.