September 11 is a day of deep reflection and strong emotions for me. My mother was born on September 11. I was born and raised in New York and grew up with the World Trade Center as part of the skyline I knew well. The morning of September 11, 2001 was a clear and blue skied in Washington, DC, where my family lived….an ordinary day. Until, it wasn’t. When the second plane hit the towers, I knew it was not an accident. The news in DC reported a third plane was on its way to the nation’s capital and all I could think about was my husband working four blocks west of the White House and my son in daycare. Would they be safe? So many mixed messages that day, so much fear and horror and no way to communicate as no phones worked. When the dust began to clear, it was replaced by silence. No more sounds of planes above our heads for weeks, rocket launchers on the streets of DC and numbness and shock. My family was safe, but our friend, the co-pilot of the plane that hit the Pentagon, was not. His silence would last forever. My mother refused to ever celebrate her birthday on September 11 again.
I am reminded of all the lost souls this time of year as I reflect on the past, but I also try and contemplate a future for my children that is safe and good. Shanah tovah, Wendy Cohen
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