I remember that day. I was in my second year of law school, living on the Upper West Side. When I heard about the attacks, I had just left breakfast with Mom and was in the back of a taxi on my way up to class at Columbia. I heard the news on the radio. I discussed it with the driver. We were both stunned. I turned around and went home. To my childhood home. To Mom. We watched the television. We could not stop watching the television, but then we did to go get my youngest sister from school on the East Side.
That day changed me. It rattled me. It woke me up. It added a layer of sadness and fear to existence. In its wake, I made decisions, decisions that were different than the ones I would have made if that day had not happened.
There is a building in my neighborhood. The San Remo. It is a beautiful building with two towers. I am writing about this building in my novel and I think I just figured out why. It reminds me of the other towers, the bigger towers, the towers that fell that day twelve Septembers ago.
Where were you on 9/11? Did that day change you in any way?