I was in the fifth grade and my mom had just left for NY for a conference. My mom is really all that I have in my life as my father passed away the day before I turned 6 so needless to say, when we found out at school what had happened. I freaked out, running back to the house where my mom and I were renting out a friend's basement apartment. They tried convincing me that my mom was 6 hours north of the attacks but its a little hard telling a 5th grader who's only fear was losing her only parent that her mom is fine. It took those friends 4 days after the attacks to get me to go to school...and another 3 days to get me to stop staring and sleeping at the phone. By the end of the week, I was drained, numb and it was that day that my mom finally came home.

That's the most personal story that I have for that day...and every year...I do something for my mom extra special just because I remember everything that happened and the fact that right before she left, I didn't get to say good bye...which made it worse.

It was also my sister's 21 birthday...so that was a fun conversation...her exact words were "Yeah...Happy Motherfucking Birthday...We're going to Fucking War."


It is the 13th anniversary...but September is also the month of Friday the 13th...Let's hope the bad luck cancels each other out.