You aren't supposed to remember -A 9/11 memoir

So, I really wanted to write one. Sorry it's short... Enjoy!!

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The doctors and nurses told me I wasn't supposed to remember. That it was fine if I didn't.

"You got injured, when the World Trade Center collapsed," They would say, attempting to keep their voices calm, even though I could see the shaking of their hands. "You are one of many. Consider yourself lucky." The doctors would say as they looked at a clipboard, their brows furrowed.

"You have a concussion." a nurse told me, as she watched the monitor.

"You have two broken legs." said another, as he fed me.

There were never ending, you haves, you're lucky, this happened, you aren't supposed to remembers.

But I do remember.

I remember the screams, the sirens, the snaps of bones as they were broken from the falling building.

I remember the police pushing us back, telling us, "It's not safe, you have to back up."

And I remember pushing the police man, and saying "My husband is up there. Let me go."

I remember the fire burning in my throat from the smoke.

I remember the plane. Then another.

I remember screaming my husband’s name, over and over again, as fireman carried dead people, injured people, unconscious people past.

The T.V. says close to 3,000 people died.

But they won't tell me if my husband did or not.

"When you're better," the nurses all say, smiling nervously.

"When you're out of the woods." the doctors say, with feeble bravado.

Don't they understand the need to know?

I'll never be out of the woods, really, if they don't tell me.

It is eating away at my insides, a monster tearing with claws, that no doctor could fix.

Maybe it would be easier, not to remember, not to remember the piece of building hurtling towards me, and me being too slow to move out from underneath it.

The impact of it as it caught my leg, pulling me down to the ground. The sudden silence that surrounded me, all the noise, smells and sights blurred from the pain rocketing up my spine.

"You aren't supposed to remember," they say, not answering my questions.

Just telling me what I already know.

I shouldn't be able to remember. But I do.