At the time of 9/11, I was living in Washington D.C, and working for an international non-profit based in Arlington, Virginia, very close to the Pentagon. That morning, I was scheduled to go on a trip to India for work later in the evening. And because I had to pack up all my stuff was running a little bit late. I remember rushing up out of the long escalator at Arlington-Rosslyn station, and seeing my colleagues who were supposed to be in the meeting which I was running late for coming down into the Metro. They waved at me and indicated that I should turn around and join them, which I did, but I was confused because we were all supposed to be in a meeting that was happening at that time. They were white and shaken and told me that they had just witnessed a bomb hit the Pentagon. I followed them down into the Metro, we all went our separate ways. I got onto a train that was the first train out of the Pentagon after the attack. People were crying, screaming, there was a man down on his knees praying to Jesus. And all in the midst of it, there was a man sitting quietly in the corner reading his newspaper as if nothing had happened. When I departed the Metro at my station, Capitol South on Capitol Hill, I was only 12 blocks from the Capitol. I came out to an eerily quiet scene. It occurred to me to call my parents and let them know I was okay before cell service went down. I did so and my mother was in shock. My father in the background - my father was a television news producer in New York City for many years - and apparently, immediately when the first hit happened in New York City, he knew it was terrorism, because news people know that Manhattan is a no fly zone for commercial aircraft. I assured them that I was okay and that I was heading home. On my way home, I saw groups of people running down East Capitol Street away from the Capitol, crying, screaming. I encountered a group of women who were trying to call from a payphone outside of a convenience store near my house, and unable to get through, they were screaming that they needed their husbands to come and pick them up and get them out of there. I suggested that they might be better off just getting on the train, which was still running. When they didn't want to do that I offered to let them come to my home and wait there. They refused. I wandered home, dragging my big suitcase. And upon arriving I turned the news on and I don't think I turned it off for 48 hours. I hopped on my computer, thinking that again, the internet might not be working much longer. And it occurred to me to send an email to our staff in 44 countries around the world, because many of them had visited our offices and knew how close we were to the Pentagon. And I wanted to let them know that everyone was all right. I sent that email. And the very first response that came back rather quickly was from our representative in Pakistan who said "inshallah, I am so glad that you are all okay. God bless. And thank you for letting us know." That always struck me as kind of a beautiful example of people caring about people despite the national borders and the national impacts of a huge event like that. I think the main way in which 9/11 impacted my life from there on is that it gave me an opportunity to reflect and be still, mainly because my organization grounded us and all flights were canceled for about three or four months after the attacks during which time I realized that I had had this wonderful career, lived and worked all over the world, but that maybe I was ready to stay put for a while. And not long after that led to my decision to have a child and a few years later, to come up to Vermont. And while I love D.C., and it will always have a place in my heart, it was getting to Vermont that made me realize that I was happy and living with this underlying stress of sirens and uncertainty and just sort of always feeling like chaos was just over the edge. And I realized now that that's gone. I don't think I could go back to it. So I'm grateful to be in Vermont.

Lisa Cannon