Remembering

Will I ever forget?

I sat in the gym that morning, joking around and chitchatting with my other high school friends.  The room was loud and lively, students from jr. high on up to us seniors sat around waiting for the assembly to begin. We detected nothing out of the ordinary. Sitting there in our American Eagle or PacSun clothes, bookbags on the floor by our feet, friends by our sides, we had nothing on our minds except our test on Thursday or what we were going to do Friday night. Just another typical Tuesday in the life of a teenager. Our principal, with a very solemn look on his face, stood up behind the podium as a general hush came over the room...

The laughing, the talking, even the fact that I was surrounded by friends, melted into the background of my mind as he uttered words that will forever be burned into my memory. All I could think was, "Wait, what? What do you mean TWO--not just one, but TWO--planes just hit the World Trade Center? How does that even happen? And a third one hit the Pentagon? The Pentagon?! Nothing should even be able to touch the Pentagon! Right...?"

I don't remember much from the rest of that school day. At first, I wasn't angry or sad or scared. I was just...confused. Absolutely confused. I didn't understand how it all happened, why it all happened, or what it all meant. I'm sure we talked about it in our classes. I'm sure we prayed. I even think that those of us who could drive were finally permitted to leave a little early that day. I remember standing outside in our old, beat-up parking lot with a few of my closest friends. The sky that day was gray and dreary, much the like the hearts and minds of our fellow Americans. I remember looking up into that big, brooding sky, wondering if another plane was going to crash into our school or perhaps a bomb would just fall from the clouds and decimate the neighborhood.

Honestly, I don't think I truly understood the severity of what had happened that morning until I got home that afternoon to my mom sitting on the edge of the couch. Pretty sure there were tears in her eyes, but a look of relief on her face as I came in that door. Looking back now, my question, "Did you hear what happened?" seems silly. Of course she heard what happened. The whole country...no doubt the whole world...knew what happened. I just sat quietly on the couch next to her and watched the devastation continue to unfold on the tv.

Such a tragedy as I had never known before was hitting so close to home. So very unreal. Terrorism. Hatred. War. Never in my 17 years of life did I even have to remotely think about such things. That happened in other countries. Other moments in history past. Not now. Not here. Not in my beloved America...

It's been 12 years since that day (12?!), but the memory is as real to some as if it were just last week. I know much speculation has risen about the event in recent years--an inside job, a government conspiracy, etc., but the fact of the matter is that a tragedy happened that day. Many, many lives were lost. Families were never the same. An entire skyline was forever altered. And the United States of America was frightened. 

But only for a moment. 

The USA is a survivor. She picks herself up, dusts herself off, and she presses on. Brave men and women (to whom I'm grateful) fight for her. In desperate times, her citizens band together. She mourns the losses but looks to the future. 

No, I can't say how that day truly came about. I can't say that slowly but surely our freedoms won't get taken away. Can't say some of them aren't being taken now. Can't say things will get better. Can't say wars will ever cease or people won't be tragically taken. But I will say that for now, America is the land of the FREE and the home of the BRAVE. And I can assuredly say that I am very proud to be an American. I was that fateful day 12 years ago, and I still am today. I love our country, and I pray to God for our country...

And no, I will never forget that day.