I remember

I've been debating all day if I wanted to write something about Septermber 11, 2001.

I almost didn't want to because I am not quite sure how I would be able to express my feelings about that day in a way that everyone who reads this little blog would understand them completely. But as I sit here, Savannah asleep and curled up next to her daddy, who is quietly chuckling at a movie, I realize that I am so lucky and so grateful for my life, and I would be doing those who lost theirs that awful and terrifying day a disservice if I didn't say anything.

10 years ago today, I had woken up to get ready for school. The previous Christmas, my parents had gotten us kids each a stereo that played the radio, tapes and CD's and, even at 13 (a week shy of 14) years old, I liked to listen to talk radio, like my dad did. I turned it on as I got dressed and I remember hearing that planes had been hijacked. I also remember my exact thoughts were "Hijacked planes? That would only happen in some 3rd world country..." and I turned off the radio and off to school I went. It wasn't until I showed up to my first period drama class that the TV in the classroom was on and I saw both towers on fire. Students were talking with each other and our teacher did nothing to quiet us down. 

I realized that I had forgotten to have my dad sign a paper for my class and I figured it was a good excuse to call him. When he answered the phone, I asked him if he saw the news. He said he had, and asked if we were watching it in class.

After first period, the principle came on the PA system and said that "Something has happened in New York", and that our teachers were not allowed to turn on the TVs or have any radios on the rest of the day, where it may be too traumatic for us young students. Of course, every teacher I had that day wasn't about to be kept in the dark that day about what was happening, and classroom TVs played the news coverage and we watched the towers fall in 2nd, then 3rd and again in 4th period. It was awful. It was terrifying. I was almost 14 and the term "terrorist attack" had never crossed my lips before. I was confused as to who would do this and why anyone would want to harm thousands of people. 

For months afterwords the stories of the phone calls from those on the airplanes to their families were heart breaking. The country was grieving together and I felt so small. I wanted to help in some way and my mom and dad came up with the idea of me selling t-shirts. I remember that people were buying American flags left and right and they were becoming rare and hard to find, so my parents came up with the artwork for a flag design to silk screen onto t-shirts. For days I stood outside my parents shop, selling these t-shirts and I donated all the money to the red cross. Receiving a thank-you note from them was one of my proudest moments. 

I know that my little contribution doesn't mean much when you watch the stories of the firefighters who hiked floor after floor of the towers to help save lives. Many of them never making it back out. My grandpa was a volunteer firefighter, my great grandpa was a fire chief and my other grandpa was a police chief. I've heard their stories and I know how dangerous their jobs were. 

I'm so proud of those who went into the towers to save lives. My heart goes out to those families who lost someone. I'm grateful for those who protect our country, past, present, and in the future. 

It's been ten years, and in another ten years, my daughter will be sitting in class, learning about that day. She will be part of a generation that will just see 9/11 as another day in history, A tragedy that happened long ago, while my generation will see that day as an actual day in our lives. A day that changed everything. I just hope that I raise her to be grateful and respectful for those who fight for our freedom.

I'll never forget September 11th, 2001.