9/11, Ten years later. Its really been an entire decade. So much sorrow, sadness, and patriotism has flowed through the nation since that day. And, just as with every other anniversary since, we spend today in moments of reflection. A time to remember that which we will never forget and the lives lost because of it.

I was waking up to a phone call around this time, ten years ago. My father telling me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Finishing to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I turned on the TV to see the 2nd tower get hit. I sat nearly paralyzed watching the news, unable to tear myself away.

In a few hours, I would answer another phone call. This time, from my boss. They needed extra coverage at work. Reluctantly, I agreed. You see, at the time, like today, I was a security officer. Only then, I was assigned to a client located within O’Hare International Airport. Many things flashed through my mind between the time I hung up the phone and some 11 hours later when my shift would be complete.

I spent 9 hours stationed in a truck, next to the tarmac. I mean thisclose to the damn runway. Watching and waiting and watching some more as one of the worlds busiest airports was eerily silent, save for the F-16s flying overhead and the occasional police car zooming past for one reason or another. No takeoffs, no landings, no planes, anywhere really. A devastating attack, which took basically moments to accomplish had turned O’Hare into a very literal ghost town, Missing only the tumbleweeds to complete the appearance. It was like the awkward anticipation of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thankfully, it never happened.

If only to save from driving myself crazy, but also as it turned out, to put at ease the feelings of my loved ones, I spent portions of that day talking to them on the phone. Trading information with them from what I heard on the radio and through the grapevine to what they heard and saw on TV.

For so many reasons, much the same as everyone else, i will never forget that day, or where I spent it and why. After a decade, the memories of the pictures, video and news on TV and the radio are no less vivid, painful or emotional than they were on that fateful day.

My generation has its tragedy the same as our parents remember the JFK assassination and our grandparents remember Pearl Harbor. I can do nothing more than hope and pray that our children are lucky enough not to have a generation defining tragedy of their own.