by Gracie K. Harold
I remember horror as the 2nd plane crashed.
I remember panic and fear.
I remember swelling pride for our fellow brothers and sisters; the unafraid, the unflinching, the unselfish.
Those who ran in…never to walk out.
I remember a sleepless vigil, waiting by a phone that refused to ring.
I remember falling to my knees at the sound of my brother’s voice,
collapsing into relieved sobs as my pregnant belly heaved with every breath.
He had been there, a mere hours before.
He had changed plans at the last moment.
It took him two years to expose his own grief and tell us
how his best friend had died on September 11.
Now, I carry the memories of the acrid reality that lingered over the city…
months after the attacks.
I carry the deep respect and loyalty for the brave men and women who
choose daily to run in…whether or not they will ever walk out.