I wasn't sure if I was going to watch it.

But I did.

In retrospect, I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe I wanted to know those heroes. Maybe I needed to remember the evil shown that day - needed a reminder of who the enemy is.

If any of those were the reason, I got that and more.

I remember that day so clearly - the way people of my grandparents' generation remember Pearl Harbor; the way my mother remembers JFK's assassination. Before 9/11, the closest thing my generation had was the Challenger disaster - and though I can still remember hearing about that, coming back from lunch in my senior year of high school, there is nothing that can compare to that awful day in September.

I could feel my heart speeding up at the initial scenes of travellers in the airport. As someone who flies regularly for business, 9/11 is always at the back of my mind. I now watch other passengers more - I'm far more aware of who's on my plane and what they're doing.

When the scenes of the Trade Center being hit were on the TV, it only got worse. I remembered the conversation with my husband that morning.

"Hey, hon - have you got the radio on?"

I didn't - usually I did, but for some reason, I hadn't put it on that morning. "No, why?"

"A plane just hit the World Trade Center. They think it's a Cessna or something."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I just heard it on the radio." He paused for a brief moment. "Yeah, they just said it again. I don't know what those air traffic controllers are doing..."

"No..." A sickening feeling was beginning to take over my stomach. "Brian, if they were headed to JFK...they'd be able to see where they were...it's a clear day and JFK is right there."

"Now they're saying it might be a big plane. You have a TV there, don't you?"

"Yeah...I'll go turn it on now."

I went to turn the TV on, and the horror began. I'd grabbed the cordless phone, too, and almost dropped it. The image on the TV was unbelievable. Flame, smoke...they were talking with a terrorism expert. He was saying that he thought we were watching a terrorist attack, that this didn't look like an accident to him. And the anchors were asking what made him think that.

And then the second plane went in.

As my mind tried feebly to comprehend what it was seeing, the terrorism expert said. "There's no doubt now."

And I started crying as my blood ran cold.

I had been scheduled to meet my friend and colleague that day, to work on a project. I called my husband quickly to tell him what was going on. "A second plane went in...it's a terrorist attack..."

I drove the 20 minutes to meet my friend, the radio on, trying to reach her on the cell phone, but service in Connecticut was disrupted. When I finally reached my friend, she explained what had kept her - I had forgotten something.

Her brother was a pilot. Flying, as a rule, the Newark to San Francisco route. She told me they were trying to figure out if her brother was flying that day - if he had just gone into the Trade Center. She'd be there when she could.

She arrived a while later - they still didn't know about her brother. We sat and watched the Towers fall, and she turned to me and said, "There's no more World Trade Center. It's gone."

And there was the Pentagon - and that field in Pennsylvania. All was chaos and absolute, unspeakable horror. We were both in tears. And it wasn't until about 1:30 that she found out that her brother had not been flying that day.

It wasn't until late that evening that we found out that a highschool friend of my husband's, who had worked in an office in the Trade Center, was now in a different office.

I can remember how quiet the skies were - we were used to planes frequently overhead, and now there were none. No planes, little traffic, everyone with a stunned expression. It was incomprehensible.

And once the fear left, there was the rage, and the grief. I remember sitting in a parking lot listening to the President's speech. I remember finding comfort in it, clinging to the words delivered with calm resolve.

I was on a plane shortly after flights resumed. I had made the decision to fly again, despite my fear. I had been booked on a business trip to Las Vegas - they asked me if I was still willing to fly. When they first asked, I honestly didn't know. I made the decision to get on a plane again, because in the end, I was not going to let terrorists decide how I lived my life. It was my very small way of fighting back.

Vegas was eerie - there was no one there. No one in line at the buffets, no one at the nickel slots, no one at the shows. No one. And security was intense. Everyone was incredibly anxious.

And watching this movie, it all came flooding back. The fear, the rage, the resolve.

I've often told my anti-war acquaintances, when they ask me if I've ever thought about why I support our actions in Iraq and Afghanistan, that yes, I do - every day. Every time I write to a hero, every time I post the news, the photos, the stories, the names, I re-evaluate my feelings on what we're doing. Every day I ask myself if I believe we should be in Iraq and Afghanistan.

And every time I come to the same decision - Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Never again can we wait to be attacked. Never again can we allow those who support terrorists to strike us first. Never again should we be ambushed. Never can we forget exactly who these people are.



To find out more the A&E's movie, "Flight 93," go here. It's on again tonight.

To donate to the Flight 93 memorial, visit this page