I was in Mrs. Carlisle’s 7th grade English class. After the first plane hit the World Trade Center, we went to the library to watch the news. I thought it was a horrible accident. The only logical explanation was a plane was flying too low and hit the building. As we stared at the screen watching the sky fill with smoke, we watched the second plane hit. At first, we thought they were showing a replay of the first plane's crash, but the commentators said differently. I was in complete disbelief. What were the chances of two planes flying too low and hitting two buildings that were side by side? My heart sank when the answer hit me. It wasn't an accident.
My eyes stayed glued to the TV the entire day trying to comprehend what they were seeing. My mom suddenly appeared in the library asking me if I remembered Jason's grandmother's name; she was trying to call her. Jason was a childhood friend that had lived a few blocks from my house, and though our families were really close, we hadn't seen them for a few years. Was she seriously asking me this right now? Didn't she have any idea what was happening? Of course, my mom knew. She also knew something I didn't. Jason was working in New York at the World Trade Center. After spending I don't know how much time praying, wondering, and holding my breath, there was nothing but pure joy and relief when we found out that he wasn't in the building when the planes hit.
A few years ago, I went to Ground Zero with my mom. The only way I know to describe it is unbelievably overwhelming. I ran my fingers over the names on the memorial, closed my eyes, and prayed. I prayed for those families and friends. I prayed a thank you for keeping Jason safe. I prayed a thank you for keeping my family safe. And I prayed a thank you for Mrs. Carlisle because I was in her classroom when it happened, and she was a large part of the reason why I majored in history. After we left the memorial, my mom wanted to stop at a cafe a few blocks away. We sat for a little while looking at our travel guide map trying to figure out our next destination, and then I noticed something that made me laugh. We were on Carlisle St.
"Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning?" was the song by Alan Jackson that summed up September 11th better than anything in my opinion because it captures the emotional experience from that day. "On that September day," I was scared. I was confused. I was heartbroken. I was angry. But surprisingly, there were other emotions I didn't expect. I was grateful. I was optimistic. I was hopeful. In this song, Alan Jackson also reminds us of the Giver of faith, hope, and love, and that the greatest gift that was ever given is love. This song basically says to enjoy the simple things, to help each other, to be grateful for another day, and not to wait for something like this to happen to "dust off that Bible at home." By the way, instead of watching I Love Lucy I watched M*A*S*H* reruns.
You remember where you were. If you actually made it through this longer-than-expected post, I want to know your answer. Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning That September Day?
No comments:
Post a Comment