It is hard to believe that sixteen years have passed. I was a child, but I ended that day with my innocence shattered and profound grief that the world could be so evil. Yet I quickly learned despite the most incomprehensible and horrific circumstances there are good people. In one day we saw the worst and best of humanity. We saw a city crushed not just with debris, but with tears and anguish. Yet we rose. We have never forgotten. But we have continued to live. We remember those who were killed senselessly but we carry on their legacy. Death and hatred do not destroy our loved ones memories. Love protects them in our hearts and we always remember. Always. Maybe a little more today when the rest of the country and the world step in to join us. But not a day goes by when we as New Yorkers have forgotten. It changed us. It defined us. It also showed us the courageous in a time of sorrow. It showed us that no matter what, love does live on.
So must the stories, so that we do not repeat history. Even if it is just a child’s innocent shattered account. We remember. We honor. We love.
I have never been more proud to call this incredible city my home and myself a New Yorker. So much love to this beautiful city and the world as a whole 💗
“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.” ~ Thucydides
“Wake up! Wake up” my sister exclaimed as she shook me awake. “What?” I mumbled grumpily eyes still closed swatting her hand away blindly. It was the first year I was home schooled, and the luxury of being able to sleep in a few minutes later and wear my PJs was not lost on me. I was going to milk it for everything it was worth.
Of course my big sister needed to leave me alone to let me accomplish that.
“We’ve bee attacked,” she whispered.
“What!” It was now my turn to exclaim as I sat straight up opening my eyes to look at her.
“Shhh! Mom didn’t want me waking you up. But I thought you should know.” Despite being eleven…
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