I don’t know a soul in New York. I only visited the city once. I remember exactly where I was when the plane hit the first tower. I remember who I was with. I remember at work that day. We were numb. We were in tears. We were huddled together trying to make some sort of sense out of the incomprehensible.

We bought several copies of each of the daily papers, hungry for facts. Hoping to hear of survivors, praying for miracles.

I remember in the days after, the silence in the sky. I will never forget that. Having lived in Southern California for so many years I am accustomed to the sounds of flight. Jets training at Miramar. The sounds of a military presence. The sounds of safety.  Living in Wildomar, I can sometimes hear the sounds of artillery. Training of America’s finest just over the hill.

I have been in tears many times today. Watching 9-11 replayed on TV. I don’t remember each detail of the events on that day. I don’t know all the names of those who were lost. And I do not want to forget. I want us to always remember.

I remember how I felt. When I see those images, it all comes flooding back.

Praying for the families of those who were lost, not so very long ago.

Remembering those who were lost. Watercolor, pen on Arches 140 lb. cold pressed paper. © Sheila Delgado 2013