LOS ANGELES–Nearly 13 years later, the National September 11 Memorial and Museum was dedicated today in New York.

While the rebuilding and economic revitalization of lower Manhattan is important–even crucial–the memorial most impactful I’ve seen was “The Tribute of Light” that marked where the Twin Towers once stood to commemorate the 11th anniversary of the attacks.

Today’s dedication brought back memories of that Tuesday morning.

The phone rang. It was early, like 6 a.m. Pacific time. The caller: my brother who lived in North Carolina.

“Turn on the television,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just turn on the television.”

When I did, I saw the footage, again and again and again of a plane flying into one of the World Trade Center’s towers. My initial thought then was what a horrible accident.

My brother had to emphasize again and again it was not an accident.

At that time, I could not fathom terrorists deliberately flying a plane into a skyscraper. It was a thought so surreal I could not even link the actions together in my mind. Today, and now, forever, the concept is not foreign at all.

Everyone knows the rest. Soon a third plane flew into the Pentagon and then one and then the other Trade Center tower collapsed, in on itself–both of them–like a tower of playing cards.

My children were young then. Griffin was 7 and Charles was 4. I brought Griffin to the television which now had a split screen shot of the towers collapsing, over and over, and the live news feed from the Pentagon.

“You must watch this,” I told him. “Nothing will ever be the same after this.” He watched and has never forgotten it.

I kept both boys home from school that day, as around time school was to start, there were reports a fourth plane was missing. My husband, however, went to work that morning against my pleas. He worked for the Walt Disney Company in the American Broadcast Company in Los Angeles, easy “Americana” targets.

By noon, the boys and I ventured out in need of communing with others: to talk about it. To hear other’s stories. We had lunch on Larchmont Boulevard where some of their elementary school friends were also having a sandwich. Their parents had them stay home as well.

We passed the time with Griffin counting stacks of Yu-Gi-Oh card numbers in his head, much to the amazement of his older friends. We went back home. They went to play. I watched more television.

As you remember, all planes in the United States that day were grounded. Everything was eerily quiet. As I put my children to bed that night, a jet seared over our house, as close and loud as if it was ripping open the sky, like heavy canvas tearing. It was a military jet flying over Los Angeles for our protection.

For me, my life, my time, this time has a clear delineation point. Everything post 9/11 and everything else before.