On my lunch break, going through my RSS feeds. One of them is from Meg Cabot’s blog. She posted an account of what she went through six years ago today.

When I got up this morning, the date didn’t register. Not until the DJs on the radio talked about the new Osama Bin Ladin tape—the one where he added himself to the 9/11 videos. Not until I was driving into work and noted the grey skies and the rain. Six years ago, the weather was clear, partly sunny, and slightly breezy. One of those perfect autumn days. My favorite kind of day. I’d been on my way to an offsite meeting. A plane took off over me as the car barrelled down I-670, and I remember thinking “I wish I was flying somewhere today.”

Reading Meg’s entry today brought back that bone-chilling terror I felt when I realized what was going on. When I got to the park where the meeting was going to be held, the administrative assistants weren’t busy bustling around and setting up. They were gathered around the TV, watching the extraordinary events unfold.

Shock. Terror. Fear. Then, tears. Lots and lots of tears.

So I’m sitting here, and I’m crying, because I remember the terror of living that day.

I remember calling everyone I could to make sure they were all right… because after all, who know what else was going to be attacked?

All I’d wanted to do was go home. I was glad when someone offered me a ride, because the person I’d have carpooled with was somehow determined to stay and work. I was determined to go somewhere familiar.

I remember the eerie silence, then the boom of a single plane as it flew over Westerville, Ohio. I remember that terror hitting again full force at the sound of this lone plane–what if they were coming for me? But then I realized that only one plane wasn’t grounded. Air Force One.

I’m crying because I know there are people in the world who live like this EVERY SINGLE DAY—it is their way of life, and it’s much, much worse that what I went through. Because it does not end for them. Who knows if it will end for them?

I’m sad that people can drive themselves to hate so much that they think that kind of violence is okay. Anywhere.

Every day, I live my life on this tiny little RonniLevel, because eventually, life did get back to normal in a way for me. I worked, paid the bills. Had a baby. Got divorced. I still work, pay the bills. A year ago today, I started working at Zaner-Bloser. I get frustrated at the slow drivers. I take pictures of foolishness at Dragon*Con. I send emails to Adam all day. That’s my life. It’s so easy to forget about major things such as 9/11, the tsunami, Hurricane Katrina in the hustle and bustle of living, of planning, of working for the future. Or just trying to survive the day.

I almost forgot. I should never forget.