Today marks the 25th anniversary of 9/11.
For those of us who come to this day with a heavy heart and feelings we don’t know where to put, I want to offer this idea.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I was running on a trail in Boulder, listening to music via my headphones. A radio DJ interrupted a song with the breaking news, and I quickened my pace to make it back to my apartment. I rushed in, sat on the floor, turned on my tiny television with rabbit ears, and saw the second tower fall.
It’s a core memory for me, and I’m sure that everyone alive on that day can remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when it happened.
In those early anniversary years, I struggled with how to honor this impossible tragedy—the thousands of lives lost, the communal grief, and the countless examples of courage that emerged from the wreckage.
It’s hard to know what to do on this day.
I go for a run.
Every year, on the morning of 9/11, I go for a run. I do what I did that first day when I heard the news. I run and remember and recognize all the reasons I have to be grateful.
It’s a quiet and small and entirely personal contribution.
But it’s a dedicated space and time to feel the feelings, revisit the memories, thank the heroes, and remind myself of this beautiful life I’ve been given.
I return home with a heart not so heavy.
If you are holding this colossal experience in your hands and feeling unsteady, I offer this idea of carving out your own little ritual, whatever that means to you.
Maybe you run, or walk, or sit, or call someone you love. Set aside a space with a beginning and an end time. Fill the space with memories, honor, and gratitude.
May it bring you peace.
Thank you, Kim. I’m going to take your advice