I remember driving to work and hearing the initial breaking news on the radio of a plane hitting the World Trade Center.

I remember the horror and confusion in the announcer’s voice when the second plane hit.

I remember my heart sinking in shock as I realized that this was much more than an accident.

I remember pulling into the parking lot and running into the office to join my friends inside to figure out what was going on.

I remember hesitation as I interrupted a meeting in the conference room to tell our customers from New York that their home had just been attacked.

I remember the entire Internet slowing to a crawl as the rest of the world joined us in looking for answers online, and frustration at my inability to locate information.

I remember huddling around a coworker’s speaker phone as his wife held the phone up to the television and straining to hear what was going on.

I remember my panic upon realizing that there were other planes still in the air that could be heading for office towers in other cities.

I remember my relief as Jodie told me that she was evacuating her office tower in downtown Toronto and getting on one of the many trains that had been spontaneously scheduled to get millions of commuters out of the city.

I remember crying as I drove home that morning listening to stories of people jumping out of the World Trade Center in a desperate attempt to live.

I remember sitting on my couch in the basement, watching CNN and running multiple instant messenger conversations with friends around the world, all of us desperately trying to understand what had just happened.

I remember really paying attention for the first time as a friend from Lebanon explained to me why the United States is seen as a target by groups in the Middle East, and my realization of the hatred that I had been ignorant of for so long.

I remember my hope for justice against those who perpetrated the massacre and my fear that the United States would overreact and set about a new generation of war.

I remember my wife returning home, and our joint realization that our world was going to be very different from this point onwards.

Fast forward to today, seven short years from that attack.  Once again I was sitting in my car listening to the news on the radio, once again headed into Waterloo to start a normal day at the office.  Once again it was a sunny but crisp day and once again I have no reason to fear for the safety of myself or my family.  Today was normal, but for some reason today was different.

Every year on this day, I have re-lived the emotions that I experienced in 2001.  Not a year has gone by where tears haven’t flowed unconsciously from my eyes while recalling these events.  That is, not until today.  What struck me this morning was that I didn’t cry, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.  I suspect that a psychologist could explain this away, but my immediate reaction is that I’m not particularly happy to be losing that emotional attachment to September 11.  Somewhat out of fear of forgetting how I felt, I decided to document my feelings immediately before they fade any further.  I want to ensure that I remember not only the event but how it impacted me on a personal level.  I also want my children to be able to connect to the social impact of this date once they are old enough to understand, and I want my grandchildren to be able to link what will no doubt be a chapter in their history books to a very real part of their heritage.

So here it is…  this is what I remember about 9/11.