The day dawned as any other. I went about my daily routine as I'm sure the rest of the world did. I dressed, ate breakfast and drove to my school, not knowing that today was the day our world would forever change. The date was September 11, 2001.
My memories of my first two classes are a blur, simple high school lessons taught, learned, possibly slept through. It was while I was on my way to my third class that the day took a turn for the worst. Several of my classmates were gathered in the hall, which was normal between classes, but for some reason still unknown to me, some were crying. I entered my classroom in time to see the second plane hit the second tower. For what I know was several seconds, but felt like several days, I stood in shock at what I was seeing. "It's some sort of stunt", someone said.
Don't we all wish? The reality of what was on the television in my twelfth grade Government class had finally set in. Two thousand plus of my fellow Americans were dead, dying, or injured.
A girl sitting beside me was crying quietly. "My mother is in New York City," she said. I held her hand and reassured her as best I could, having just had my seventeen year old world shattered. Later in the day she received a brief phone call. "I'm alive, I'm safe, and I love you." The rest of the day dragged on numbly.
The news had spread quickly. This had been no accident. Someone had deliberately and with malicious intent, attacked the World Trade Center. I asked myself that day how the world was still spinning. Why had everything not suddenly stopped? Did the world itself not realize...