Today is the 10th Anniversary of September 11th.
I’m not from Washington, D.C. or New York. I don’t know anyone who was there when it happened. In fact, I was several states away and yet it deeply affected me.
I remember exactly where I was when I first saw the events of that day as they unfolded.
I had woke up and went to the kitchen to make breakfast and on the way there I stopped to turn on the tv, like I did every morning. As I was pouring a bowl of cereal, I heard something strange happening. I went over to the couch and grabbed the remote to raise the volume.
As the seconds slowly passed, the understanding dawned on me that this was not some cruel accident but an attack of the most terrible proportions.
I called my family to tell them what happened since they were at work and, I think subconsciously, to feel reassured. Eventually I had to pull myself away from the stream of footage and leave for class. I drove to my school and arrived to see a deserted parking lot. A lone security officer approached me and told me that all classes were cancelled and the campus was closed.
As I waited for his vehicle to pull away, I looked up and saw a jet flying close to the ground and immediately I felt afraid. All I could think about was “is that plane landing or is it going to crash into the college?” I watched it fly away from the school as I made my way home, driving in a heavy silence filled with worry of the unknown.
Do you remember where you were when it happened?
For those who are interested in a more first hand account that is told in a beautiful writing style, I highly recommend visiting the blog 9/11: Day Three Hundred Fifty Six. It is powerful and evocative, and well worth a few moments to remember those that we lost.