The articles and photos covered the newspaper on Sunday -- it was the 15th anniversary of the Sept. 11 terror attacks. I was surprised how the coverage moved me. The horror of the day will never really be gone.
I was in college when the attack occurred, on my way to a journalism workshop for Ohio State's student newspaper. Paul was studying abroad in Mexico. We had met earlier that summer. We would be married two years later.
Of course, we had no idea at the time that we would move to New York in 2007, just six years after the World Trade Center came down. When we relocated, it seemed like so much time had passed since 9/11. Looking back, it seems like our "new world" was just in its infancy.
I never truly felt in danger while we lived in New York, but the attacks were often on my mind. That's because I worked in Lower Manhattan just down the street from Ground Zero, and many of my co-workers had first-hand experiences of the towers toppling down. The feelings were raw. They probably always will be.
My oldest nephew was just one on that day, the others -- and our own kids, of course -- weren't even born. Strange to think that they'll look back on this day the same way my generation does Pearl Harbor Day -- with reverence but no personal connection. And hopefully the new generation will never experience a day even remotely equivalent.