Most everyone I know remembers where they were on 9/11, and I can certainly recall that day in vivid detail. What I am reflecting on today is where I was NOT.
I was not standing on the street near the twin towers, head concussed, eyes, ears, and mouth full of concrete dust that was not supposed to see the ground again in my lifetime. I was not in my kitchen, frantically dialing the phone number of a loved on which would never be answered again. I was not standing outside the door of a child, wondering what words I could possibly conjure up that would make the imminent pain and anguish of hearing that a mother, father, brother, or sister would not be coming home any easier to bear. I was not at Ground Zero wearing a uniform stained with tears and blood, too exhausted to do anything but react as I had been trained to do.
To my friends near and far whose lives were impacted directly or indirectly by the events of 9/11 and whose scars ache today on the 20th anniversary, I am sorry, and I am praying for you with intention.