I joined Sal in Times Square this morning. It broke my heart. How can I begin to describe what it's like knowing what happens at 8.46am. I was standing there, looking at my watch a minute before, and looking around and seeing everyone doing their normal things, and I could hear...I could actually hear the distant hum of the jet engines of the first plane approaching.
And I watched people begin to look up at the sky as the engines rose in pitch and it got louder and mouth's open and eyes widen.
Then the moment. It was horrible counting the last minute down. Poor Sal does this everytime the field office loops around. She sees all of this. Hears the cries and screams of shock. It was all too much. I cried.
I cried like a child, because it reminded me of this day, when I was only ten, and watching it all happen on a telly in high school. The other girls in my class all screaming and the boys all yelling 'no way!' as loud as they could. And there was and me knowing my cousin Julian was in there somewhere.
God that memory really hurts still. I'm not doing the Sal-run for a long while. That was enough for me.