09/11/2026
A moment of reflection from Joanna Jordan:
On the morning of September 11th, my son, Antoine, had just left for school with our babysitter, Fati. I stayed home with my 18-month-old daughter, Isabelle, doing yoga together in the living room.
Suddenly, the unthinkable happened. From our apartment, we could see the very top of one of the towers with its satellite,and in what felt like a single, devastating moment, it was gone.
The immediate terror and uncertainty that followed are hard to describe. I was desperately worried about my employees who commuted daily on the PATH train into the Trade Center.
Miraculously, they were all safe. When I was finally able to send a message back to my father from my BlackBerry, my family in England exhaled a collective sigh of relief.
In the years before that morning, when Antoine and I lived in Battery Park City, the World Trade Center was part of our everyday life.
On cold days, we spent countless hours at the toy shop in the mall beneath the towers. To entertain him, I used to tell him a story: Imagine if the Trade Center were our house, with slides on the escalators, big bouncy balls bouncing through the mall, and a giant swimming pool at the very top.
Over the last 25 years, I’ve often hoped that the souls lost that day felt the deep love and warmth of all the everyday New Yorkers who lived, worked, and shared moments of joy in those buildings.
We will never forget September 11th, the lives lost, or the resilience of our city,but today, I also choose to honor and cherish the bright, happy memories that came before. 🤍