September 11th

I think every generation has one of those "where were you when.....?" questions. Like, where were you when Kennedy was shot. Where were you when the Berlin Wall came down. Where were you when the space shuttle exploded. My where were you when question would be September 11, 2001. I was actually in the car on my way home. I was listening to the radio (mix 95.1- I'll never forget it.) I was only half listening when they broke in about a plane crash in New York. I flipped a CD on, not wanting to hear news. My parents were in Hawaii and my grandparents were staying with us. I walked in the door and my grandmother is sitting on the couch in tears. She said something about a terrible plane crash. A paralyzing fear struck me when I remembered hearing about a plane crash. I thought something had happened to my parents. Then I realized that they were no where near New York. That moment of relief lasted for a split second when I saw the images on the TV. Images I will never forget. We stayed glued to the TV for hours. I watched what I thought was falling debris, only to realize that it was people jumping out of the windows. That was my breaking moment, when I had to walk away.

I think now that's where my aversion to watching the news stems from. Those horrific scenes are forever burned into my mind. And that was just from a TV screen. I simply cannot imagine how people who were actually there can cope with everything they saw.



A few weeks later, my father and I went to see the Pentagon. Perhaps because my dad worked at the Pentagon, it struck me in a more profound way than the Twin Towers. I thought of all the times that I got to visit my dad when he worked there. How important I felt walking through that building, and how proud I was of my daddy that he was one of the people keeping this country safe. And I thought of the men and women who died there that day. And of their kids who walked through those same doors I did and felt the same surge of pride. I stared at the blackened walls and the gaping hole and I felt hollow. In moments like that, the magnitude of what hatred can do threatens to drown every ounce of hope I have.

And now, eight years later... the surge of patriotism has faded. We're stuck in a war that I don't understand why we're fighting. Men and women are dying by the thousands and we've become desensitized to the numbers.

Where does it end?