Twelve years ago now, hard to believe it has been that long, all our lives were changed when terrorists flew planes full of ordinary people into the World Trade Towers, the Pentagon, and one plane was taken down by brave passengers in a Pennsylvania field.
So many, many people died, and I will never forget the anguished screams of the man who worked in the first floor of the building I was working in at the time. We all were gathered around the small TV in my boss's office, and watched, stunned, as the second plane his the New York towers.
All flights were suspended, and the air above us in Boston on that bright sunny day was suddenly silent. Sounds so ordinary and expected - the busy traffic going to and from Logan Airport - was conspicuous in its absence. Later that was interrupted by the loud passages of fighter jets on patrol.
Pet Talkers with loved ones in New York were franticly trying to reach them, but cell phone traffic was down, and when it came back up, was overloaded. Images of the firefighters and police and dogs searching for survivors is burned into all our brains forever.
We will not forget. We will teach the children who were yet to be born that day. We will not forget.