11 Years Gone.

On the 11^th anniversary of 9/11, I wake up with a lump in my throat. I remember the day, fresh as yesterday. I am thankful my friend and co-worker woke up late and that we were at exit twelve of the Turnpike when the North Tower was hit. I argued that it was a hell of an accident and he pulled the car hard to make the exit, explaining to me that no one accidentally hits one of the trade centers. The radio continues to tell us the South Tower was hit. My cell phone rings and it is, my now, ex-wife frantically telling me that Peter is in the North Tower. A plane hits the Pentagon. I arrive at my in-laws. Tear filled eyes watch helplessly as the South tower collapses, a plane crashes in a field in Pennsylvania and then eventually, the North Tower plummets to the ground.

Eleven years later, the numbness creeps in; then the anger. I have to wake Lizzy for school, I walk to her room, but she is already up and dressed. 9/11 is as far from her mind as Pearl Harbor is from mine. I drop her off at school and make my way back home. Passing the now closed, once secure, Fort Monmouth, I wonder how prepared we really are.

I get home, turn on the TV and watch the names of the fallen being read. The bell tolls for a moment of silence. I want to believe our world is a better place now, but know it is not. Public transit has changed forever, we traded freedom for the perception of security. Our politicians have terrorized our economy, attacking our future generations. The original Twin Towers took just four years each to build, the 'Freedom' Tower, eleven years later, is woefully incomplete.

'...Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.'
John Donne