I was a sophomore in college the day the towers fell. Almost two

thousand miles away from New York, I called my mom to make

sure she was alright. They left home early from work, to mourn

and process the events from that day.

I felt helpless and worried. I was upset  that I was so far away. It

bothered me that the people around me seemed to be just

going about their day like nothing terrible was happening.

I remember the next few days, bursting into tears at random, and

not knowing what to do with my feelings.

I love and live in New York City. I’m a proud New Yorker. The

most thing I’m proud about is how resilient we are. How we have

this hard shell, yet are the first to lend you the shirt off of our

back.

We New Yorkers always have your back no matter what. I’ve

always found the phrase “Never Forget” problematic for various reasons. Online I read something earlier today that said

“Always Remember”

I like that better. Always remember the day that seemed the

darkest, hope sprang forth, and we loved each other a little

harder. We hugged our loved ones a little tighter. We spoke to

each other a little kinder. We saw each other, we cried together,

and prayed together. September 11th may have been one of the

darkest days in our history, but September 12, and the weeks that

followed were some the most moving.

We. Saw. Each. Other. Not as us vs them, but “You’re my brother

or sister and I love you.”

I so wish we as a nation could get back to those September 12 days.

Loving each other no matter what we look like or where

we come from.

Where were you the day the earth stood still?