Memories started flooding my mind. I thought about the last meal we had with her. It was September 10th. Her boyfriend was not home that night, so it was just the three of us: Aaron, Mom, and me. She’d made our favorite meal, her famous fried rice. All through dinner we were laughing, talking, nourished by our love for each other. It was our perfect last meal together. I thought of the ‘N Sync concert she took me to a couple of weeks before that. Knowing how much I loved ‘N Sync, she’d pleaded with her boss, who had tickets, for just one so I could go. As it turned out, he gave her two. So Mom and I went to the concert at Giants Stadium together. We both went crazy, singing and dancing to my favorite boy band. I thought about our trip to Six Flags. Always a thrill seeker, she’d gently teased Aaron and me for being too terrified to ride the monstrous roller coaster. And I thought of the dream she’d had two nights before 9/11. She’d dreamt that she had been in a car crash, that something flew through the windshield and decapitated her. She dreamed that relatives squabbled over my brother and me. It had been so real that she woke up crying and rushed into Aaron’s bedroom. She told me about it the next day as she hugged me. At the time, I thought I could not imagine what it would be like to live without her, and now I was doing just that. Her nightmare had become my nightmare.