09/11/2026
Tonight, 25 years ago, my parents, grandmother, aunts and uncle left for a two-week vacation to Ireland.
I had the opportunity to go with them, but I stayed behind. I was starting college classes and would be home to take care of my younger sister and brother, Ken and Kate.
I never could have imagined what the next morning would bring.
I woke up, got Ken and Kate off to school, and headed to class. The air was cool and crisp. Fall was approaching, and the sky was absolutely beautiful.
I walked into my first class and was told that one of the towers had been hit.
At first, there was confusion. Then fear.
New York City was going into lockdown, and my first thought wasn't about myself. It was, how am I going to get my brother and sister home?
I walked home and ran into my friend Tommy—literally my best friend at the time.
Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I found myself standing on a rooftop looking at the skyline.
And then I watched one of the buildings disappear from the sky.
That was the moment reality set in.
I needed to get Ken and Kate.
Tommy drove us to Jackson Heights so we could get them from school.
Once we were home, the sound of military planes shaking the house became something I will never forget.
We watched the live footage. We watched people jumping from the building. We watched our city, our country and our sense of safety change right in front of us.
The days that followed were filled with uncertainty. But they were also filled with something I'll never forget—people coming together!!
We stood on street corners with complete strangers, praying, singing and crying.
Friends and family signed up to serve in the military. Everyone was trying to figure out what came next.
My mom would call from Ireland at all hours of the day, telling me what they were hearing overseas. Rumors were everywhere. At one point, she told me to buy gallons of water because in Ireland they were saying our water supply could be targeted.
And the hardest part?
My parents couldn't come home.
Even if they could have found a way, they couldn't.
For the next two weeks, I was forced to grow up.
I became responsible for two little people—not just getting them to school and making sure they were fed, but carrying their emotional needs while trying desperately to hide how scared and overwhelmed I was myself.
I remember sitting with Ken as he cried himself to sleep. I assured him our parents were going to be okay. That they loved us. That they would come home as soon as they could.
Kate had her moments too, but Ken was the youngest, and I think he felt the fear in a way that was different.
I was 19 years old.
And for those two weeks, I didn't get to be 19.
Twenty-five years later, I still think about that girl.
I think about what she saw.
What she carried.
What she never told anyone.
And there is another reason September 10th has always held a special place in my heart.
When I was pregnant with Chase, I was going to be induced, and I had a few dates to choose from. One of those dates was September 10th, and another was September 11th.
I chose September 10th.
I never wanted my child to be born on one of the worst days of my life.
I wanted him to be my bright spot before the storm every year moving forward.
And he has been.
And I think about the world we are living in today.
I've been watching documentaries and listening to conversations about the decisions made after 9/11—about the countries we entered, the countries we eventually left, and whether history taught us the lessons we thought it did.
And as I watch the world now, with war once again dominating the headlines, I can't help but feel that familiar uncertainty.
Twenty-five years later, so much has changed.
And somehow, some things feel painfully familiar.
I don't have all the answers. I don't pretend to understand the decisions made by those in power or what the right path forward is.
But I do know what September 11th taught me.
Life can change in a single morning.
The people standing next to you may become the people who carry you through it.
And sometimes, the moments that force us to grow up are the ones we never asked for.
Tonight, I remember the lives lost.
I remember the families who never got to say goodbye.
I remember the first responders and everyone who ran toward the danger.
I remember my city.
I remember my country.
And I remember being 19 years old, standing on that rooftop, watching the skyline change forever.
25 years later, I still remember. 🇺🇸
Every September 10th, I am reminded that even after the darkest storm, there can be light.
