Usually on 9/11, my Facebook wall (and I suppose, everyone else’s) lights up with photos of the World Trade Center, remembrances of loved ones and pleas to “never forget.” And I want to emphasize that there’s nothing wrong with any of that. But today, I saw something different: I’ve had two of my friends post about how 9/11 affected their decision to be a writer.

One of them retold their story about how the event occurred during the first day of their high school journalism classes. Another—someone I’ve met just this year but is already a dear, dear friend—referred to a story she once told me about how she didn’t know what she wanted to do for a living until Sept. 11. She now works as a news reporter in the city.

I had written something profound here about the possible rise of a new generation of news reporters influenced by 9/11, and maybe we’ll all find out soon that there is actually some truth to that. Or maybe not. Perhaps it is best to just say that, on a day filled with somber notes, thinking about this made me smile a little.

ETA: This post originally referred to three friends of mine; turns out it was only two. Everything else still applies.