Today marks 25 years since September 11, 2001. A quarter century since the morning the world stopped in one direction and started in a completely different one. I was there. Working at Mount Sinai Hospital. And I want to tell you what I remember. My Tuesday morning started out like any other day. I kissed my children as they left for school with their dad and grabbed a kiss from him for myself. "I love you and I'll call you when I get there." My daily mantra. I grabbed coffee and a buttered bagel from the hospital's cafeteria — extra toasty, because I love the burnt edges. I arrived at 7:45am for my 8:00am shift. The executive nurses I supported would be arriving shortly. Phones ringing. Nurses arriving like an assembly line. Reports being dropped off, new ones picked up. Smiles and hellos filling the air. An ordinary morning. When my husband called around 8:50am to check on me, I realized I'd forgotten to phone him when I arrived. "Turn on the news," he said. "A plane hit the towers." It didn't register. Fifteen minutes later, he called again. His voice was different. "We're under attack. Another plane has hit. I'm on my way out the door. I'm going to get the kids." I turned back to the screen. Smoke billowing. The darkest black I'd ever seen. Then it happened. The towers came down. Hand over mouth. My brain finally catching up to what my body already knew. People were dying. That's why the hallway had been getting louder. Doctors, nurses, attendants — running. And then something I will never forget. The Nurse Director and the executive nurses I supported came out of her office in a rush. Women who had walked into that meeting in business clothes walked out in scrubs — fully dressed, ready to save lives — in less than ten minutes. They mobilized faster than I had grabbed my breakfast that morning. They ran into the hospital like a Wonder Woman Squad. They knew their assignment: the towers are gone. We need to save those who survived. Twenty-five years later, I can still see it like it was yesterday. And tomorrow, I want to tell you about the days that followed — the part most people never saw.

Some anniversaries you circle on the calendar. Others circle you — showing up in the tightness of your shoulders, the shape of your breath, the way your body knows what day it is before your mind catches up. Tomorrow is one of those anniversaries. I was in New York City on September 11, 2001. This week, I want to share what I remember — not for content, but because 25 years is a long time to carry something quietly, and because there are women reading this who have been carrying it with me. Meet me back here tomorrow. And Saturday. And take gentle care of your body this week. — Coach Dorothy #NeverForget #September11 #WeRemember