From Marianne: Everyone Has a September 11 Story. Here’s Mine.

On September 11, 2001, I woke up late and was rushing to meet my trainer. Shorts, sneakers, water bottle, I flew down the stairs. Then I remembered the date. I ran back upstairs, kissed Bob and said, "Today's 21 years since my dad's accident."

September 11 had already marked my life once before back in 1980. I was 23 when my dad’s cargo plane crashed into the Amazon jungle, killing him, his copilot and an engineer. For 10 days we weren’t even sure if they were dead. It took that long for hired local crews to machete their way through the jungle, reach the wreckage and confirm what we were terrified was true. After that, I became superstitious about September 11. I promised myself I’d never fly on that date. I still don't.

So 21 years later, September 11 still made me uneasy. But that morning was spectacular. I remember driving to my workout with the windows down. The air was crisp. The sky was ridiculously blue. When I got to the end of my street, I stopped before turning onto the main road and actually took it in. It was just... perfect. And then, out of nowhere, a thought popped into my head:

Nothing could ruin a day this beautiful except maybe a bomb or something.

I have no idea why I thought it. I immediately told myself to knock it off with the crazy thoughts, turned left and kept driving. About a half hour later, I was working out. There were televisions throughout the gym, and suddenly I saw Katie Couric and Matt Lauer on the Today show and obviously something was very wrong.

A plane had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Everyone stopped. We stared at the screens trying to understand what we were watching. Then the second plane hit. The rest of that day is a blur I somehow remember vividly.

The horrifying images from New York. The fear that there would be more attacks. Rushing to get my kids from school. Wondering whether Chicago might be next. And wondering whether I should go downtown to do the radio show with Steve Dahl as scheduled from a studio high up in a very tall Chicago building. Suddenly every ordinary decision felt dangerous.

I've thought many times about that moment at the end of my street. The blue sky, open windows, and the bizarre thought that entered my head minutes before the world changed forever.

Was that really a premonition? Or was September 11 a date my brain had already learned to fear? I mean for 21 years, it had meant one terrible thing to me. Then, suddenly it meant something terrible to the entire world.

Now on September 11, I can still picture that sky and feel the air coming through my car windows. I think about the thousands of families whose lives were divided that morning into before and after, and I get it. Mine just happened 21 years earlier. Same date.