I didn't update on September 11th this year because I was sick. Stomach bug, which seemed fitting for the anniversary, miserable as the bug was.

I didn't see any TV or radio. I wasn't online. I was not exposed to any of the spectacle it may have been. Or maybe it was subtle and poignant. I have no idea.

This year, I started thinking about it about a week before. At night, when I was home alone, mostly. A few times at work, but mostly at home alone.

I remembered the smell. That indescribable acrid smell all over the island. Burning the inside of our nostrils.

I spent a few hours thinking about one of the guys calling our apartment the night before, on Sept 10th. I ordered my roommate to let it go to the machine because he had been playing her and we sat next to the machine, TV on mute, holding our breath listening to his message in total silence so we could over-analyze it after.

She wanted to pick up, I stopped her. He was playing games, I said she needed to play back. Later she wanted to call him back, I said no again. Wait until tomorrow. Wait at least a day.

I didn't know there wasn't going to be a day. I don't really blame myself for that. It was perfect 20-something-single-girl advice to single-dating-friend. I could never have known it would be the last time she or I ever heard from him. I think about it, but I don't blame myself. Blame is for the people who killed him.

If you were to ask me how I feel today about what happened personally to me on Sept 11th, I don't know have any one answer.

Everything happened. I survived it, and I don't mean the attacks, I mean, I survived the experience. I definitely survived the loss of my friends. I survived the sadness. I survived the insanity. I survived & I tried to overcome it. I'm still working on overcoming it.

A whole lotta people survived it. I'm not special for that. I'm part of the club.

The overcoming part has been a hurdle. I've attempted a bunch of leaps over it. Some leaps are good, others tripped the gate. I try to remind myself that it's the attempt that counts and keep going.

I think about them all the time. My handful of friends who were killed in the towers. I'm so glad I was in my late-20's when it happened. We had a nice chunk of time to make memories. The memories haven't faded and I am exploding with thanks for that.

My parents called and called on Sept 11th. I could tell they were worried about me, though it was never said. They came so close, each of them separately saying to me, "you don't sound like yourself, everything ok?", I was proud of them for being so forward but skipped the offer to chat because I was tired and honestly, hadn't sorted through about how I felt yet.

The answer is I don't know yet. Or 42. One of them.

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