Nine Eleven

This is a story I've shared for nine years, lived for 19. Each anniversary, I can feel like I'm right back there, on that very day.

My grandma asked me to write my story about 9/11 for her local rural newspaper so she could read it on the 10th anniversary, so I obliged. I would do anything for my grandma, RIP.

So many perspectives unfolding that day, and this is mine. I've published it in a couple newspapers, and it gets shared by family and friends via FB, and so it's always been available to read, but recently I've been reading my stories aloud and I think they take on a different meaning. Or maybe my voice sounds annoyingly empathetic, but whatever, stories can be received differently in different formats, specifically, written vs oral.

I showed up to a Writer's Group meeting for the first time and read this for the first time and felt stupid as hell and fought some tears and decided after I wasn't ready to really share yet...

That was then. This is now.

Hope it can help you sense that historic day.