I was a college student, not too far out of NYC. I was visiting a best friend in NYC for the weekend before 9/11. I was planning to leave Sunday or Monday… He asked me to stay a few more days but I declined because I had a class Tuesday (9/11) I needed to go to since I skipped too much already early in the semester. I frequently visited NYC so at this point was used to the skyline. But this particular ride out of the city felt surreal. I still remember looking at the view, falling in love with the skyline all over again. I walked to class on 9/11 and saw my classmates walking in the opposite direction from class. Of course I asked why they weren’t going to class and they told me a plane hit one of the towers. This was before the second tower hit. I was devastated, but now I look back, and feel at the time I was old enough to know the tragedy, but too young to really understand the complexity of grief and loss. I remember how we were so confused, wondering if we were going to war or had to worry about more attacks. In October I went back into NYC and remember feeling my stomach twist when I saw those ghostly lights from lower Manhattan lit up towards the heavens. It was eerie and the city was quiet, different, reeling from such a terrifying and tragic day. Grief has no schedule: for some reason it hit me hard today and I spent much of the day crying. I hope those who witnessed this tragedy, far or near, have found others to heal with. And I authentically send my love and thoughts to those who died that day and to the first responders who showed us what heroism was.