SO when I first met Rocco, he had just left the fast-paced world of finance to help out in the family business, which at the time was failing. I think both he and they figured that those two degrees he earned at college should be good for something. Hell, he went to a Big East School...nothing to sniff at...so settling in to run a small-scale family business should be cake.
And it was. Sure, there were challenges (working with your family...hello? That alone is a challenge!) but I think, deep down, that he was restless. He started trading again on his desktop, options trading, some risky business that was sure to get the blood flowing.
And then September 11th happened. And it changed everything.
Now, don't fall for the absolute bullshit that it didn't. Maybe if you live in some remote part of the universe, it didn't really affect you. It was sad, sure...it was a tragedy. Perhaps you felt removed from it. But for us two Native New Yorkers, we were decimated by all that occurred that fateful day. And beyond that day...I am still shaken to my very core every time I think about my skyline...forever altered...and my city, sucker-punched, smoking, and so terribly ruined.
I was in the city that day. Rocco was at the family business.
It changed us both. I can remember getting home that night, exhausted by emotion and fear, tired, scared, and angry. We lived in a crappy little apartment then, and as I turned the corner to go down the stairs and into our entrance, I saw that Roc had brought his American flag home from work. It stood there, on the dilapidated deck, just staring at me, as a new flood of tears descended. I opened the door, went inside, and held my husband tight.
I should have known then.