13 years ago today I was on the 5th floor of what was then Bear Stearns world headquarters at 245 Park Avenue when a coworker, Alison, got off the phone and told us that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. In my normal smart ass mode, I joked that it wasn't me who did it. What unfolded over the next few hours shook me to my core like few things ever had before and would do since. Living in one of the outer boroughs and not having a way to get home outside of my own two feet, Alison took me into her home with her now husband Michael where we forged a wonderful, deeper friendship as watched the world we knew at that time irrevocably change. Many people chose to leave NYC following those events in 2001. I chose to stay for another 12 years despite my mother begging me to move. If I was going to leave, it was going to be on my terms. Today, pause and take a moment to remember those we lost - the innocents who seemingly had no choice and the brave who charged forth into danger to save as many as they could.
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