I will, in so many words, attempt to express my feelings about the great loss of the American people on the eleventh day of the month of September, 2001. The strike was hard, in our backyards, and there was no escaping it. For we fortunate people not in New York that day, we watched our families, our friends, our fellow Americans, suffering and under attack. The brave Americans in New York that day witnessed a sight that we all pray to never have to face.
From the moment I woke up that day, I felt wrong. The house was still and no one had come to wake me for school. As I walked down the hall to the living room I could very definitely hear urgency in the voices on the television, punctuated with small gasps from my mother. When I came into the room, I saw that my mother was crying and gripping her chest. All I saw was smoke and ash and panic.
In school that day, none of us did work. We sat in our assigned places and followed the news. Our teachers were worried, some of them had family at the towers. All day long, blacks and greys and whites and tears and pain. All day long. No one knew what to say. Every so often the teacher would give us commentary, making sure that we understood, the best we could, what was happing.
The incredible thing about Americans is our extreme resilience and ability to heal ourselves. The following days and weeks and months, the American people held their breathe, and hoped it was all some terrifying dream. There was a hole that would take years to fill.
And now, here we are eleven years later. A little shaken up and less innocent, but Americans all the same. We the people were tested that day in early September, and we showed our true colors, and they were bright.
God bless us all, the tried and true Americans, and while we are strong, and resilient, may we never be tested again at so great a cost.
Cheers,
Caleb
P.S. You can see this article on NationofChange here: http://www.nationofchange.org/where-were-you-911-1347377094
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