09/11/2026
I remember September 11th.
I remember a girl running into my classroom in tears and crumpling to the floor. Her parents worked at the Pentagon, and she didn't know if they had been lost.
I remember another classmate crying, worried her uncle had made it to his meeting at the World Trade Center. Was he there? Was he okay?
I remember walking the halls, stunned. I remember eventually sitting, glued to the news, watching something none of us could fully comprehend while the rest of the world tried to figure out what was happening—and what we were supposed to do to stay safe.
And even now, all these years later, I can barely watch the videos or listen to the phone calls from that day without crying.
I think about the lives lost. The families that changed in an instant.
And I miss something about the America we became in the days that followed.
We were kinder to each other. More forgiving. More aware of how precious life was. For a little while, it felt like we remembered that we belonged to one another.
Years later, my work at the local bank brought one of those families into my life.
I served a young woman who had lost both of her parents at the Pentagon on 9/11.
She was about to turn 18, trying to build a life and make enormous financial decisions without the two people who should have been there to guide her.
I worried about her. The people around her seemed to be using her rather than guiding her, and I remember feeling fiercely that she needed someone in her corner—not someone making decisions for her, but someone helping her understand enough to make them for herself.
I still think about her. I wonder where she is and what her life looks like now.
And now that I'm a parent, I understand that feeling even more deeply.
If my child ever had to navigate this world without me, I would pray that good people would find her.
People who would protect her without taking away her voice. Teach her what she didn't know. Tell her the truth. Help her build something of her own.
I think of that young woman often when I'm sitting across from someone young who is beginning to build their own dream.
It's part of the advisor I've become.
September 11th reminds me of terrible loss. Of what hatred and violence can take from us.
But I also remember what happened when, in our grief, we turned toward one another instead of away.
We helped. We forgave. We loved our neighbors a little better.
I don't ever want to forget that part either.
May we remember the people we lost by taking better care of the people still here. 🇺🇸
