On the morning of September 11, 2001 I awoke thinking that this would yet be another typical Tuesday; little did I know that this day would change my life forever. Seeing two of our countries largest towers collapse was the scariest thing I have ever faced. After witnessing the pain and sorrow of that horrible day I realized now the same nightmares we see on television across the globe are actually happening in our own backyard.
Over the course of the week following the attack, coverage of the search for victims and perpetrators was everywhere. Like most Americans I am sure, I was not able to tear myself away from the television until the real damage became apparent. Despite the media?s pleas for blood donations, they weren?t needed. There were barely any intact bodies found- let alone survivors.
There are two images I still to this day cannot seem to get out of my mind.
One is of a man in a suit jumping out of a top floor and falling to his death. He reminded me of a father who had put on his tie that morning in attempt to go to work in attempt to achieve the American Dream, only to be forced between burning alive or being killed upon the impact of his body with the momentum hitting the concrete sidewalk.
The other image is of a girl my age with her mother and younger brother holding up a picture of her father, describing him while sobbing and begging for people to look for him in the surrounding hospitals. She looked so horrified and heart broken. I wanted so badly for her father to come home and say, ?Everything is okay.? More than anything, the attack has made me sad. I am sad for the victims?...