On September 11th, I was walking around in a hardware store in Paris. It was early afternoon, and the strange thing is I started hearing “Hail to the Chief” playing in my head – just as if it was playing on the radio. I thought it was bizarre but didn’t know what to make of it so I put it out of my mind. When we got home my husband’s aunt called us from Germany. She told us to turn on the TV and said something had happened in New York. I turned it on and saw the plane crash into one of the towers. I was in total shock. I used to work at One World Trade. I thought of all the people I knew there and the thousands in both towers and underground. At that point one of the towers came down and it was the most overwhelming, horrifying feeling. I couldn’t get through to anyone in the city for days. Finally, I managed to contact a friend and found out everyone at my firm had survived. But so many others were not so lucky. I don’t do too well on this day. It's very difficult to remember the horror of what happened.

I’ve been back to New York since then. We went back to get married. We had a very small, simple wedding at the courthouse with a couple of friends and had a small brunch afterward. It felt bittersweet to be back. The city felt so different from when I lived there. The next day, I decided I wanted to go downtown to see the Trade Center construction site, though I didn’t know how I would react. I felt very anxious because when we got to the site all I could see was a wide open space – like a gaping wound – but my eyes kept trying to see the towers because that’s what I remembered. I couldn’t take it all in at first. My husband gave me some time by myself and I was there for a long time, just staring at the gaping space where the Trade Center used to be. I’m not sure how long I stood there. Then the past started to come back to me in isolated memories, bit by bit. Then I just let go…