I hate this day. It's really hard to go about life as usual with that giant hole in the middle of lower Manhattan. (Okay, I guess technically there's a Freedom Tower there now.) Even though I no longer live on the East Coast, I am still so acutely aware of that horrible morning. Out here, several states away, people just don't seem as immediately connected to what happened, which feels kind of lonely. I was 10 at the time, and six kids in my class lost parents that day. I was lucky.
Anyways. I guess it's a day to count my blessings.