September 11th

I can't believe it's been eleven years since that day. Not just because eleven years flew by, and it seems like yesterday, but because I can remember the day so well. This is just my personal story of the events, which I wanted to put in writing to be able to re-read one day, when I don't remember it as well.

I was a freshman in college, and it was a Tuesday morning. It was the first time I'd ever spent the night away from my dorm. I'd gone to a cheer friend's apartment after practice, and ended up spending the night there with another girl from our squad. I was driving to class the next morning, (which was weird since the past two weeks I'd just walked across the quad to get there) and listening to the radio in the car. I was so annoyed that they were talking instead of playing music (stupid me!) that I didn't even stop to listen to what they were saying. I tried turning to a few other stations, and got exasperated they were all so serious (again, stupid me for not picking up that something major was going on) that I put in a CD and jammed the rest of the way to campus. When I parked and started walking to class, the campus seemed bare. I figured I was running later than I'd thought I was, and just assumed everyone was already in class. I heard a mutter or two about New York, but in my rush to get to class, I still didn't catch on that something major was taking place. Something that would change our world.
I got to class and only about 8 of the 30 people enrolled were actualy there. The professor wasn't even there. Like myself, the others in the room seemed clueless. My professor walked in and had a grave look on his face. As he got closer, I realized he'd been crying. This big tough 40-year-old history buff had been crying. He explained that we wouldn't be having class today, then briefly told us what what going on. I STILL didn't understand the gravity of the situation (remember, I was just a few months past 18), but suddenly knew that whatever it was, it was a BIG deal. I ached for my mom, and called her on my cell phone, on my walk back to my dorm. There wasn't much we could say to each other except "I'm okay, are you okay? Okay, well keep in touch." and I walked up to my room. My roommate was glued to her TV and I remember watching over and over and over the video of the planes crashing into the second tower. Later in the caf, it seemed there was an eerie calm. I remember that later that day we found out the football game had been cancelled for Saturday. I decided I'd go back to Austin and spend the weekend with my family. Rumors swirled that gas was about to run out nationwide. I took my car to the gas station across the street from
Campus and waited almost two hours just to top off my tank. Of course we learned later that wouldn't happen, but being a gullible college kid who wanted to make it home for the weekend, it seemed the right thing to do. Although I was saddened immediately, I think it was still souv bigger than I understood for quite some time. So senseless, it was almost impossible to try to make sense of it. I remember thinking "I'll tell my kids about this one day!" and never having had such pride in my country. We all did! Flags hung everywhere. I learned about Nationalism in social studies, but never realized how powerful it could be. Although it was such an awful time, it was inspiring and beautiful to see the whole country lean on each other. I remember watching President Bush's speech, and even political discourse had melted away in the aftermath of this tragedy. We were all on the same team. Americans.
Years later, Stacy and I took a trip to New York City. We went to see Ground Zero and my strongest memory was coming up from the underground subway. Normally halfway up the stairs you could hear the city buzz, and with each step it got louder and louder. But as we walked up the stairs to daylight near Ground Zero, there was a reverent silence. Everyone was quiet and mournful, and although it was still pretty much a hole in the ground, with a fence around it,  there were some memorial portraits and signs. A lot began to sink in for me on that trip. I'd always thought about how 9/11 affected our nation, but never specifically how it affected the city of New York. People we stayed with lived on the 43rd story of their building. They said that for MONTHS after the attacks, they were terrified every time they heard a plane. The whole city went through so much, and I can't believe it took me years to consider their points of view, and what they faced and felt.
I know others understood immediately. I'm not proud that it took me so long to grasp how horrible it truly was (not just that thousands died, but that it would change our history, our policies, send us to war, affect us financially...all of these profound impacts), but I'm not ashamed either. Looking back, I was a kid. A sheltered and protected kid, who until then would've listed the David Koresh 'Branch-Dividians' event as the saddest day ever.