Editor’s note: This is the fourth article in a series that will run this week to commemorate the tenth anniversary of 9/11.
This isn’t a story about 9/11. This is a story of the story of 9/11.
My story.
We all have our stories about it. Where we were, how we heard, who we knew who was somehow more intricately bound up in its History than we.
We tell these stories so that we can put this huge, hellish thing in a box. We define its boundaries, we say, here, this is yours but this is mine; and in doing so we also invite the rest of Us, the survivors, in. We share. We become aware of how we are all the same person, and this person is frightened, sad, angry, hopeless, hopeful, resolute, courageous, but no longer alone.
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