Ten years ago, at around 8:46 in the morning, I was just getting off I-87, the Northway, at Exit 37, heading to my classes at Plattsburgh State University. That was where I first heard the report on NPR of a plane crashing into one of the World Trade Center buildings. I remember standing in line for my morning bagel and hot chocolate and watching the television with everyone else, still in disbelief, as the second plane crashed.
This morning, ten years later, and on a Sunday, I found myself getting off at Exit 37 on I-87, heading into Plattsburgh once again, but this time, with Colden in the backseat. We were heading to Target to do some last-minute preschool shopping for him. (New t-shirts and socks, since he has totally outgrown everything I bought for him last year at this time.)
It was strange being in Plattsburgh again at the same time, exactly ten years later. Target was quiet. Everyone seemed subdued. There was very little traffic this morning.
Tonight, we'll cook a big meal together and eat out on the picnic table, playing in the back yard and watching the sun go down. And we will remember.