On the morning of September 11, 2001 I was headed to the Deloitte office in Denver for day #2 of my professional career. I was headed north on Colorado blvd about to turn onto 8th ave, and was carpooling with my roommate and work colleague, Lisa. She liked to listen to Jaime and Danny on the radio in the morning. It was her turn to drive. Had it been my car, we’d have missed the tragedy unfolding because I listened only to CDs in the car. I hated radio commercials, but I’m glad that I wasn’t being my own DJ that day.

I remember vividly what I was wearing; cream slacks, a brown button down, and Mezlan shoes. I was also wearing silver-framed glasses. Everything was brand new. I had bought the shoes in Nassau and the clothes on a shopping trip with my mother in Miami only a couple weeks before. They did not make it through the whole day. It took me almost a month to cycle back around to those clothes, for some reason. I wore that same outfit for only the second time on October 16, 2001 – the day my sister died. They did not make it through the whole day. That day was also a Tuesday, also a day that I remember with clarity. True story. I don’t know why I remember it, but I never made it through a whole day in those clothes until maybe a year later, when I finally wore them again. That time, nobody died. At least nobody I knew..