On the kindness of strangers...

I woke up this morning and realized what day it was. I hugged my boyfriend a little tighter as he left for work.

I don't mean to imply that I'm completely distracted today, or that 9/11 feels as raw now as it did a few years ago, but it's still an anniversary that stirs a lot of emotion in me. I certainly revisit my memories of the day, frantically trying to reach my friends in DC, friend who were colleagues just two weeks earlier, my family frantically trying to reach me in Boston, and our office frantically trying to reach the staff we had out recruiting in DC and New York. Like all of us, it's obviously a day I'll never forget.

I am constantly appreciative of my scenic commute to work every day. As I pass Crystal City I see the US Capitol in the distance to my right, the Smithsonian and the Washington Monument. Just before the scenery changes to the Key Bridge, Georgetown and the National Cathedral, I swing around two sides of the Pentagon.

And that's when I started to cry.

I wasn't bawling. I just felt my eyes well up. I saw flags at half-staff and couldn't stop a slow but steady stream of tears. Every once in a while it occurs to me that people were driving THIS route as the plane crashed into the Pentagon. Can you even imagine?

So the tears just kept coming. I was stopped in traffic on Key Bridge as I wiped them away, but could feel the eyes of the person in the car next to me on me. Again, I wasn't hyperventalating or anything, but it was clear I was crying. I composed myself and looked around, finally making eye contact with the person next to me. He just smiled. He may have just been friendly, perhaps he didn't know I was crying, perhaps he's a scumbag trying to pick up women in traffic, but I choose to believe he knew that I was crying, he knew why, and he just wanted to say it was ok.

I really appreciated that.