It's five years ago, and I still think about it every day. How can I not,
when I see the Pentagon from where I work? I watched it burn for two days. I'll
never forget that massive cloud of black, brown, and gray smoke, with flecks of
silver scattered around it. I remember the things I did; the mistakes I made as
well as the things I did right.
I remember worrying about my brother, who works in Lower Manhattan and saw the
Trade Center fall while he was running for his life. I remember the jet fighter
flying over the cemetery, searching for the last plane in the air. You could
tell the pilot was in earnest; you knew he was saying 'this is no joke. I may
have to kill someone today.’ I remember feeling afraid, vulnerable, and angry;
it was one of the worst days of my life.
I still get angry when I think about it. I don't like the way people are saying,
"something good will come out of this" or "it taught us how good people can be."
Whenever I hear that, I remember seeing the funerals in the cemetery over the
next few weeks, and watching friends and relatives crying. Tell them something
good came out of it.