Hardest day of the year

As much as I love fall, there is one day that will always be the hardest day of the year for me. It doesn't seem to matter what I do on September 11th, my mind goes back to that day. My arrival in the Hart Senate Office Building just as the first plane hit. Watching the 2nd plane crash into the tower on live tv. Calling my parents in Arizona to quickly say, I'm ok. Being evacuated. Hearing the planes flying overhead, not knowing whether they were military aircraft or another hijacked plane heading toward us. Fighting the crowd searching for the roomate I had carpooled with, who worked on the House side. My cell phone not getting a signal as I desperately tried to call her. Not finding her despite my desperate search and finally deciding it was time to go home. The longest, quietest commute home of my life. Kneeling in prayer with my three roommates, thankful that we had all gotten home safely. Walking up the hill by our house with the perfect view of the Pentagon in flames - staring helpless, knowing there was nothing we could do. Watching as they hung the massive American flag on the Pentagon.

As time passed, I was evacuated several times at work. My office building was contaminated with anthrax. We were all tested and evacuated. We later found out that United 93 was headed for the Capitol. Every time I wonder if the brave men and women on the flight hadn't acted, would I be here today with my dear sweet husband and daughter? Can I ever repay them?

As every year goes by, I think I can get over it. I think this year I won't cry. But time doesn't seem to matter. Five years later and I still sob as much as I did that day and my heart aches. I doubt it will ever change.