For those of you outside of the US, this day may be just like any other, but for me September 11th is always momentous. On this day in 2001, I was up extra early and caught the news after the first plane had hit the World Trade Center. I saw the shock and fear of the reporters, as I felt it myself, when the second plane hit and we all felt the knife of attack rather than accident slice into our minds and hearts. I will never, never forget seeing the towers fall, and the thump of my soul once, and then again, in instant understanding and grief for those losses. It was devastating.
The reason I was up early, was to get a mole removed from my upper back. When the surgeon cut it out later that morning, I thought of the symbolism of carrying a physical scar from that day, and I appreciated that reflection of the one I would always carry inside regarding what I had witnessed – even just by live media all the way on the other coast of the US, I felt it to my core.
As the accounts poured in over days and weeks and many years, of the scared, brave and heroic people who gave everything to help and to try to survive, I was healed by knowing of those who made it, those who didn’t, and all those who loved them. I was healed by all the people who gave with all their hearts that day and for uncounted days afterward. And I’m still healing in each year of remembrance.