I remember my eldest son being in another state and the terror I felt at his ability to come home to me. He was three.

I remember folding laundry and the call to turn on the TV, and seeing the second plane as it found its target.

I remember wondering if those were really small parts of the building falling, or something human.

I remember the flags everywhere, and the spirit that seemed to swell in us all.

I remember the boy I knew from high school telling me he was ready to go kill some “towel heads,” and the subsequent disgust I felt for the man I realized I didn’t even know.

I remember not knowing who, what or where was next. I remember the utter shock of it all.

I remember terror. I remember fear. I remember grief. I remember the dream of the little girl.

I drive by the Pentagon sometimes, and the visual of the planes landing at Reagan, the ones that seem to fly inches above the Pentagon, bring back that terror.

I wasn’t even close to the actual damage. Not physically. For those who were, I cannot even begin to imagine your memories.

Peace.