It was a day that did not end.
It went on for days, it went on for weeks, it went on for years. But then you look up and somehow, 20 years have gone, and you realize with a start that you can’t recall the last time you thought of Sept. 11, 2001.
“We’ll go forward from this moment,” I wrote. And we did. And we have. So much so that maybe the events of that day begin to feel a little distant.
So it’s shocking how easily it all comes back.
Indeed, to review the old footage is to return to that morning with visceral urgency, two decades stripping away like varnish, like nothing. Suddenly it is once again that fateful Tuesday morning, and there is a pit in your stomach, a tension in your jaw as two iconic New York towers are impaled by jetliners, as fire blooms like some death flower, as great mountains of smoke float over the skyline, as dust-caked people stagger about like confused ghosts, as first word comes of an explosion at the Pentagon, as a plane disappears from radar over Pennsylvania, as TV news anchors struggle for words to comprehend the incomprehensible, as your heart breaks, and breaks.
All of it comes right back. Just as if it never really left.
It felt like we had stepped off the edge of the world. Remember that? A band of Muslim extremists had bloodied us — us, the most powerful nation on Earth. We were in shock.