I remember ... the shock when the news announced that another plane had crashed into the other WTC and realizing it was no accident.
I remember ... feeling numb when the announcement was made that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon.
I remember ... as the first tower fell a coworker whispered, "What about all those emergency people who are still inside?"
I remember ... hearing that a fourth plane had gone down in Pennsylvania--perhaps brought down by its passengers--and I felt a surge of pride for the people inside who'd realized what was planned for them and that they'd decided to take their destiny into their own hands.
I remember ... watching the second tower fall. How much more could we take?
I remember ... crying all day and for a long time to come. I'm crying as I write this.
I weep for the innocents who were injured or died. For the people forced to choose between being consumed in the fire or leaping to certain death. For their families who still grieve them.
I cry for the children growing up who won't know a time before September 11th and have only experienced a world where people who don't even know them could harbor such hate that they would strike out to maim and kill them, where their supporters could cheer and dance in the streets at the images of death and carnage.
I grieve that mankind cannot seem to be better, that we don't live long enough to learn from our mistakes, to see what's really important in life.
Yet, the fact that the events of that day in 2001 filled--and continues to fill--the hearts of so many people with horror gives me hope.
A noble heart cannot suspect in others the pettiness and malice that it has never felt.
I appreciate everyone who takes the time to share their experiences from that day ten years ago.