Ten years ago, I didn’t die.
My helpless body didn’t endure the angry flames that engulfed the twin structures symbolizing America.
Ten years ago, I didn’t rescue.
My heroics weren’t tested and refined as I risked everything to drag charring carnage from the remains.
Ten years ago, I didn’t sacrifice.
Not a single family member or close friend perished alongside the 3,000 who did.
Ten years ago, I didn’t crumble.
My life and lifestyle carried on with barely a nick.
But ten years ago, I shared.
Shared a horrific tragedy that reshaped humanity.
And ten years ago, I hurt.
Hurt for the thousands of relationships senselessly severed.
Ten years ago, I lost.
Lost an innocent naïveté that believed evil couldn’t thrive.
Ten years ago, I remember.