Remembering that Day....
7:59 AM Edit This 0 Comments »
September 11th 2001.
A day no one LIKES to remember, but a day that no one will ever be able to forget... It's amazing that it has been 7 years since that horrible day. Whenever the attack becomes the topic of discussion, I find people always tend to tell their story about where they were, what they were doing or who they were with. It's incredible how one day -out of thousands- can clearly be recalled by most people. Seven years have passed and we remember the events of that one day like it was last week. Thought I'd take a minute to tell my 9/11 story...
I was fast asleep in Trusler Hall, because what college freshmen would ever get up before noon, when Regina Rosner came busting into my dorm room streaming "They bombed the Pentagon!!!" It took a minute to register what she had said then it hit me that her father worked there. I vaguely remember her dragging me down the hall to the common area where half of our floor was watching the news- I remember seeing the first tower on fire, smoking and crumbling. I got the most awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that went up into my throat. What was happening? Who would do this? And at that moment, the other tower came down. Numbness. The rest of the afternoon was filled with questions, worrying and being glued to the TV. It was awful. But I didn't know how to react. Classes were canceled and the campus was eerie with emptiness. I was at my boyfriends dorm that night when I called home. It's so easy to picture myself sitting on the floor, outside in the hallway, leaning up against those ugly egg-shell/yellow painted walls, talking to my mom and dad. It was at that point, I lost it. All the confusing emotions I had felt throughout the day hit me and I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't speak. I cried for the parents who lost children, for the children who lost their entire families, for the babies...for the sisters and brothers who lost each other, for those left with the awful fear of not knowing. I couldn't imagine how they were feeling. I wanted so badly to be home- to hug everyone I loved and hold them tight. But a phone call was going to have to do. Hearing the voice of my parents made me so thankful they were safe. It wasn't fair that everything in my little world was ok, while others were suffering so badly, and there was nothing I could do to help.
I remember students waiting in line for hours to give blood and seeing a genuine kindness in strangers' eyes. For awhile, everyone was on the same team. I found it comforting that in the face of disaster, the goodness in people was able to shine through and the hero in everyone wanted to help.
The first time I ever visited ground-zero was December of 2006 on a New Year's Vacation to NYC. In route to our evening's destination, we used the train station at The Port Authority. Before I realized where we were, I was standing behind the fences looking into a construction zone. I stared in awe. Five years had past and my feelings never changed. For a brief minute, I froze. All the emotions felt that day came rushing back. It was intense. It still is intense. And it will always be intense.
For the survivors, the heros and the loved ones we lost. We will never forget you.
I was fast asleep in Trusler Hall, because what college freshmen would ever get up before noon, when Regina Rosner came busting into my dorm room streaming "They bombed the Pentagon!!!" It took a minute to register what she had said then it hit me that her father worked there. I vaguely remember her dragging me down the hall to the common area where half of our floor was watching the news- I remember seeing the first tower on fire, smoking and crumbling. I got the most awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that went up into my throat. What was happening? Who would do this? And at that moment, the other tower came down. Numbness. The rest of the afternoon was filled with questions, worrying and being glued to the TV. It was awful. But I didn't know how to react. Classes were canceled and the campus was eerie with emptiness. I was at my boyfriends dorm that night when I called home. It's so easy to picture myself sitting on the floor, outside in the hallway, leaning up against those ugly egg-shell/yellow painted walls, talking to my mom and dad. It was at that point, I lost it. All the confusing emotions I had felt throughout the day hit me and I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't speak. I cried for the parents who lost children, for the children who lost their entire families, for the babies...for the sisters and brothers who lost each other, for those left with the awful fear of not knowing. I couldn't imagine how they were feeling. I wanted so badly to be home- to hug everyone I loved and hold them tight. But a phone call was going to have to do. Hearing the voice of my parents made me so thankful they were safe. It wasn't fair that everything in my little world was ok, while others were suffering so badly, and there was nothing I could do to help.
I remember students waiting in line for hours to give blood and seeing a genuine kindness in strangers' eyes. For awhile, everyone was on the same team. I found it comforting that in the face of disaster, the goodness in people was able to shine through and the hero in everyone wanted to help.
The first time I ever visited ground-zero was December of 2006 on a New Year's Vacation to NYC. In route to our evening's destination, we used the train station at The Port Authority. Before I realized where we were, I was standing behind the fences looking into a construction zone. I stared in awe. Five years had past and my feelings never changed. For a brief minute, I froze. All the emotions felt that day came rushing back. It was intense. It still is intense. And it will always be intense.
For the survivors, the heros and the loved ones we lost. We will never forget you.
0 comments:
Post a Comment