September 11, 2011... 10 years later...

Never forgotten.

Almost 3,000 souls were lost : World Trade Center, First Responders, Four Commercial Flights, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.

I woke up early that day, as I always did, so I could go out and take care of my horse before picking up my work. It had already started, and I didn't know. I groomed and grained my horse, like I did every single morning, for the previous four years. I was usually out there alone. Most of the other boarders came out in the evenings or on weekends. I enjoyed having the place to myself. It was my time to talk to God. How could I not be grateful when I was enjoying my horse's company and the quiet of the early morning?

One of the other boarders came out to work one of the horses early, and asked if I'd heard about the plane flying into the World Trade Center. I thought she was joking, in very poor taste. I didn't believe her. It was absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible. Then the owner of the property came out, and told us that the Pentagon had also been hit. I looked between them, and said, "You mean it's real?"

My regular, easy-going conversation with God changed to a pleading prayer, in my heart, and didn't stop.

After I finished taking care of my horse, I slid into my car, rolled down the window, and turned on the radio. They repeated over and over that planes had been flown into the WTC. As I drove to pick up my work, other cars passing me, both ways, had their windows rolled down, too, when usually they'd be rolled up because of using A/C. Their radios were on, too. My radio was in stereo, from the outside. We were all listening to exactly the same thing. Total strangers, all listening to the same thing.

I picked up my work, at two different places. Over and over, the radio talked about the planes, but they would not release the names of which airlines. By the time I was driving home, I was screaming at the radio for the names of the airlines.

One of my friends is a pilot. The last time we'd talked was the month before, and he'd told me his route was in the northeast. I was desperate to know which airline, and felt guilty for hoping my friend was safe.

As soon as I arrived home, I turned on the television. Still no specifics of any kind. I called my friend, expecting to reach his cell phone. He answered. I felt guilty for feeling relieved and grateful he was okay. His route had changed. (It was a while before the airlines involved were revealed.) He was safe. He had been grounded, but he couldn't complain about the lovely city he was in. I'm still glad he was safe. A part of me still feels a little guilty.

I heard firsthand about the plane that crashed into the open field. While the media debated the possible cause, I didn't need confirmation; I knew the passengers had done something. I knew the passengers had made a choice, and wondered if I would have had the courage they did.

We learned months later that my cousin was supposed to be at a meeting in the WTC that day. He didn't make it because he was taking his parents to the airport. So many lives were spared that day because of being late, taking a child to school, or some other small, seemingly inconsequential event.

So many lives were lost. They were on time, doing their jobs, being where they were supposed to be. Then the responders were there, doing their jobs. Many of them had been going off duty, but recognized an emergency and the need for additional help. They were being who they are.

Fathers, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, wives, husbands, coworkers, friends.

I watched the news, every day, all day, for days. I wanted to donate blood, but discovered that the day before a new ruling had been passed, and I was no longer eligible, because I had lived in England for three months. It wasn't needed, anyway. I remember that first day thinking that the hospitals would be overwhelmed. Then they weren't. You either made it relatively unscathed, or you didn't. I didn't know any of those who died, but I had friends who mourned the loss of many friends.

Did it change me? Yes, it did.

Once the shock had worn off, I hadn't yet realized I'd changed. Then I saw Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings. 9/11 had stripped away the wall I'd built around my feelings. Suddenly, I felt everything. The flood of emotions was overwhelming, confusing, like going from a world of muted grays to one of vibrant flashing colors of every tint and hue.

I changed. I connected with people through the internet, where I found a whole host of friends who shared in my new discovery. And we've been sharing the journey ever since.

I hold this day as a day of remembrance. A day to mourn lives cruelly and needlessly lost, too many families with empty places at the table, the wonder of the courage of human beings, the miracles of those who lived, and the gratitude for the thousands of people who did good simply because it was the right thing to do.

I will never forget.