It
was a beautiful morning. I had recently celebrated my thirteenth
birthday and entered the seventh grade. I was in Miss Bollum's
homeroom class and I remember sitting towards the middle of the
classroom excitingly talking to my friend Jenna. Things were cool and
perfect for a Autumn morning.
Then
it stopped...
Miss
Bollum was sitting at her desk joking with one of the boys when the
phone rang. It was her fiance at the time. I remember her picking up the phone her face
getting a little white with a look of confusion. She told one of the
boys to turn the television to ABC and another one to tell the other
classrooms to do the same. Miss Bollum explained that a plane had accidentally hit one of the World Trade Center buildings. I was a
little young to be familiar with what these building were. As we
watched a tower burning I remember hearing explanations of how it
was the financial capital of the United States. I kept hearing how it
was such a tragic accident and what had gone wrong with air traffic control to make it a plane
hit such a massive building.
That
is when it hit...
I
remember a whole seventh grade homeroom class silently gasp in horrow as we saw
a huge plane hit the second tower. I remembering in my numb shock
turning towards Jenna and saying, “This wasn't an accident.” We
just sat there too shocked to say anything and too afraid to cry.
Knowing that at the age of twelve and thirteen our lives had changed forever.
Soon like an alarm sounding in my head the bell rang signaling the
end of homeroom and that we were to move to our first hour class.
I
had English next and I remember Mrs. Carlson talking about terrorism and how we should write in our journals about how we felt
in this moment. Maybe this was one of the first moments I knew how
much writing healed in times of great adversity and fear. I remember
praying and wishing that people would be ok. (I wish I could find that journal entry from that day.)
What
was happening...
It
was as I reached my second hour Choir class when I heard the panic as
someone informed me that the Pentagon had been hit by a plane as
well. Were planes just going to continue to hit? What about the buildings in
Minneapolis? I tried my best to sing and distract myself from the
beginning of what I thought was World War III. I just wanted to crawl into
bed and fall back asleep. Pretend this was just a silly nightmare and
wake up to the real September morning. As a seventh grader I felt
frozen and helpless in fear.
It
all came crashing down....
I
was on my way to Gym after second hour praying it would be over. That
it would stop and we could get the people from the towers out.
However as I changed for Gym I heard the tragic news. One of the
towers had collapsed. I couldn't breathe. Halfheartedly I remembering
playing some stupid game, maybe it was dodge ball? It was a nice
little distraction between the terror that the world had become. A
kid from another Gym class told us that a second tower had collapsed.
Was this what it felt like when the world ended?
A sadness of hope...
My
fourth hour was already my least favorite because it was Math. I had never been great at Math and was dreading having to focus on problems while my stomach felt ill. As I
walked in the TV was on CNN. The reporter was in Pennsylvania talking
of another plane that had crashed. There were not exactly sure, but
thought it had been connected to the earlier events. Four separate
pictures of burning rubble, four separate locations of tragedy. I
remember the reporter saying that this plane was meant to be for
somewhere else, but from a 911 call the passengers had risked their
lives in exchange for many others.
Growing
up too fast...
The
rest of my day went by like a blur. I didn't eat much for lunch and I
honestly cannot remember the rest of my schedule other than my last
class which was Science. Mr. Axmen was obviously upset as we walked
into the classroom. We went outside and looked for leaves. Some simple memory like that just sticks with me. Just walking
outside I remember it being such a beautiful day. There wasn't a
cloud in the sky. How could a day like this become such a tragic one.
Fifteen minutes before class ended I remember him talking about a
friend of his in New York that was missing and then he threw a desk.
These were fears, emotions, and feelings that were new to me. That
fateful September day changed me... in a blur of destruction my
innocence was taken away. I felt the true nature of fear. I saw the strength of so many people too. I realized how blessed I was... I clung to
God. I knew how lucky I was. How living in the Midwest made me fairly
far from the immediate danger. I didn't have anyone near the
destruction. My family was safe.
Today
is September 11, 2011...
Today
I am twenty-three years old. As I watch tributes and remembrances I
feel like I'm the little thirteen year old frozen inside of Miss
Bollum's homeroom class again. Something like this never leaves you... no
matter how many years go by. It is crazy that a decade has passed
since that Autumn day. It is amazing what changes and how you as a person changes as well.
A
baby born in 2001 is now in fifth grade
A
fifth grader in 2001 is now in college
A
college student in 2001 might have a five year old now
It
is amazing everything that has happened since that day... I am very
aware of all the change. Both good and bad...
- A Hurricane named Katrina wiped out the Gulf Coast
- A Bridge collapsed in Minnesota (This one so close to home)
- An earthquake struck Indonesia, Haiti and recently Japan.
People
have passed away...
- Micheal Jackson
- Peter Jennings
- Amy Winehouse
- Countless soldiers
However...
Also people have been born.. people have grown up..life has changed..for good.
- My cousin's little boy Wylie Hunter
- My neighbor's two little girls Maddie and Lydia
- I've survived broken hearts, bullying, and so much more.
- I'm a young woman now... in charge of my fears
It is amazing to where technology is now. It is wonderful to see where film, music, and television has taken us since then. It is glorious to see people stepping up and protecting our country. An eleven year old is now twenty-one and many of them have chosen to fight for their country. I am grateful and I've never forgotten what they are fighting for.
God
Bless America
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