Seven years ago

I was in my apartment in Bedford, TX, watching the Today show's live feed of the North Tower on fire when I saw the South Tower struck by the United Airlines jet.

It is impossible to forget what it was like working at APFA headquarters throughout the week trying to figure out how to deal with something so magnanimous. Those of us who were stuck away from our homes spent the next 7 days straight in Euless trying to help flight attendants who couldn't get home all the while ignoring our own situation because dealing with everyone else's was so much easier. That's what union reps do on a smaller scale. But this was a whole new ball game.

It took me months, long after I had published the 9/11 magazine for APFA followed by the crash of AA 587 and a subsequent memorial magazine, to deal with my grief. Ultimately, my response to that grief was to move back to New York as a sign of loyalty. I have no regrets about that decision and made the most of my 3 years enjoying the city I consider my second home.

I love New York. Always have and always will. Even before I'd ever traveled west of Utah, I knew New York and I would be good together. Following 9/11, I made a point to visit Ground Zero by either hopping on the subway when I lived there or flying to New York from my home in San Diego, and spending the day enjoying the city and honoring the memory of the World Trade Center and all its absence represents.

This year, I decided that it was okay to stay put and just remember in my own way. Just let it be personal and not feel like I had to be anywhere other than where I am. Home. It was an uneventful day. I like it that way.

Just didn't want to let the day go by without acknowledging what it means to me.