It has been (over) ten years since that day.
I did not lose someone specifically.
I did not even live in NYC at the time.
But of course I will never forget.
When I moved to New York City in June 2002, it was one of the first places I visited.
After work one day, I walked thirty blocks to see it.
And I cried.
It was turning into a place people could and would make money.
T-shirts. Books. Photos. Food carts.
It was disgusting.
But over the last ten days or so, that is not what made me cry.
I am not super patriotic.
I do not believe this is the best country in the world.
Far from it.
Lots of places I have been are pretty awesome.
I almost moved to Sweden at one point.
But everywhere I went people talked about the men and women who sacrificed their life that day.
At the UCF football game, (almost) everyone wore a red banana in honor of one such man.
At school, the firefighters and police were mentioned.
How people died so others could live.
And I know Roger did not decidedly die for me.
And I know he did not "save me" in the car accident.
But he did.
He gave me family that I had not experienced since I was a little girl.
He gave me the opportunity to meet my goal to finishing my degree.
A job that I am adoring.
A community, finally after searching for years.
And a believe that marriage could be a good thing.
Sigh... And I thought September would be easier.