It’s sort of my “Yes, Virginia…” annual repost. And with each year, the memories of this 9/11/2001 morning are more poignant because despite changes, these girls remain tight, connected and dreaming of rescue.
Back in the day, before Alzheimer’s was the rule rather than the exception, it was common to hear a monumental story start with, “I will never forget…” Today, that phrase is a prayer: Lord, may I always remember…my images of the morning of Sept. 11, 2001.
The memories of the devastation of the day, the moment-to-moment surreality of the world melting before my eyes on television, and the suffocating visualization of Carol Marin’s radio descriptions of running down New York streets as the World Trade Center belched ash and smoke, will long remain in the terabyte corners of my mind.
But the images I wish to forever claim are of two freshly dressed, backpacked little girls standing on a sidewalk in Carol Stream, Illinois at 8:23 AM, CDT. For while their parents emerged from their houses too stunned to speak of what they had been…
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