Thirteen years ago today, I went for a bike ride in the early morning before classes. I was sick as hell and couldn’t sleep, so I hoped the exercise would make me feel better. I wiped out on a gravel path in the arboretum at Grand Valley State and scared the living bejeesus out of some fraternity boys who were out on the plaza for rush week (they saw me go into the arboretum but they didn’t see me come out until after I’d wiped out–they’d started to worry). I went back to my dorm, took a shower, started my computer, turned on the TV.
I watched the second plane hit.
There are some days that are etched in your memory and they dim only a little–if at all–with the passage of time.
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