I was only 6 when the planes hit. I was only 6 when thousands of people lost their lives in a tragedy that would forever shape this nation. I was only 6, but 14 years later I remember it like it was yesterday.
I did not lose anyone that day, and for that, I am forever grateful. However, I remember sitting in my first grade classroom listening to my teacher explain to us what happened. Why she thought it was smart to tell a bunch of first-graders about a terrorist attack I’ll never know. I remember feeling frightened. I knew my dad worked in New York City, but I had no idea where. I remember being released from school and running into the arms of my mother, not daring to ask the question I so desperately wanted to ask. Is Daddy alive? However, before I could even muster the courage to ask such a question I heard someone shout my name. I turned around in time to see my father walking towards me, arms outstretched. As I felt his arms close around me, my memory of that day stops.
I have no memories of the rest of that day because, for 6-year-old me, everything continued on as normal. I’m sure my parents, who did their best not to worry me, drove me home just as they did everyday. Most likely I was sent to my room to play, or plopped down in front of the TV with SpongeBob on in the background. However, I have a classmate who lost her uncle that day. I have family friends that lost their mother or father. I know people who weren’t able to carelessly forget the remainder of 9/11 because to them, it was more than a national tragedy; it was a day they lost someone they loved.
Every year I feel the wave of pain and sadness that comes with that fateful day. Growing up we had moments of silence, class discussions and presentations to the extent that “Never Forget,” was no longer a motto, but our lifestyle. My current dance teacher was on the 30th floor of one of the twin towers. When the first plane hit, they were told not to leave. She refused to listen to her supervisors and instead made her way to the ground floor and out into the mayhem. Not long after, her building collapsed, killing or injuring everyone inside. She is now the proud mother of three beautiful children and it gives me chills to think that she may never have had the opportunity to love them.
It is people like her that inspire me. It is people like her that make me grateful that amidst all the sadness, there were some survivors. People who did not live in New York at that time will never truly feel the way we do. I live less than 30 minutes from New York City. September 11th is a day that I will never forget, because it literally hit so close to home for me. Just as those living in Colorado will never forget Columbine, or those living in Oklahoma will never forget the Oklahoma City bombing, we will never forget the pain and the loss that we felt on that day.
No matter how many years have gone by, we must never forget the lives that were lost. Made just four short years ago, here is my tribute to all those affected by 9/11. May we never forget.
