I am a native New Yorker, both born and bred. I emerged into this world in St. Vincent’s Hospital, the same hospital whose emergency room treated 844 patients (a record for a NYC ER) in the aftermath of the attacks.

My relationship with the Towers goes way back. My high school prom was actually held at Windows on the World, although I didn’t attend. My reasons for not going didn’t quite fit the typical desi geek narrative. In a high school where most people went stag, there were actually four women who wanted to go with me, the apex of my high school popularity! Nor did my parents forbid me from going. However they wanted me back by midnight (they were concerned for my safety) and wouldn’t budge. Given that the prom was going to cost around $200 (just for the tux and ticket, no limo, and this was a lot of money back then!), I demurred.

Still, while I may not have had memories of my prom at the Towers, I have plenty of others. Every time some relative or friend would come through town, I would be dispatched to show them the sights. I didn’t go up to the top that often - I was too jaded and too thrifty for that. Instead, I would wait below, in the plaza between the buildings. There I could lie on my back, look up at the hulking masses that stretched far into the sky and contemplate my own insignificance, wallowing in adolescent angst.

The Towers were like Niagara Falls, a must see destination for uncles and aunties. There was always a sari squeezing into the elevator, excited to go up to the top of what may not have been the tallest building in the world, but which was at least the tallest building at the center of the world.

I’m going to let you in on New York’s dirty little secret about the towers — we’re much more fond of them now than we ever were when they were around. Most locals thought of them as big, ugly monstrosities, massive but sterile. New York embraced them only after they were levelled. Before, they were an alien presence. Afterwards they became a part of our psyche, noticeable for the pain of their absence.

I had always used the Towers as a landmark to navigate by when I was far enough south that the streets no longer ran in a grid. You could see them for miles, even far into Brooklyn. Once they were gone, I was confused, and couldn’t find my way around. I kept looking for them, the same way I used to run my tongue over and over in the gap left when a tooth fell out, a visceral loss.