I Remember That Day...

The day was beautiful. A perfect almost-fall morning: clear, cool, and it smelled delicious. When I came upstairs for breakfast, the door to my dad's room was open. He's never up that early, so something about that morning already felt different to my little 8th grade world. When he told me that someone had flown planes into two really tall, important buildings in New York, it didn't really register. I guess I had never thought about those buildings as having lots of people in them. I felt sadness for whatever had motivated someone to do something so dumb, but the sheer loss of human life wouldn't set in for several hours. As I walked the 4 or so blocks alone to my friend's house, I thought about the people on the planes. How scary that must have been. I wondered if there had been children on the flight. I whispered a quiet prayer, not only for the people who were scared and lost their lives, but for gratitude. My dad traveled a lot when I was in Jr. High and he flew to NY a few times every year. I thanked Heavenly Father for always protecting my dad on business trips.

One of my friends bullied me a little on the way to school and I was sulky when we got there. My wounded pride was quickly forgotten when I walked into my first class. Every head was turned up to the TV to watch the reports trickle in. That was the moment. As I watched the camera span the wreckage and the ticker at the bottom slowly tally the death toll, the disaster suddenly became very personal. My little heart swelled with compassion and love for the thousands of men, women and children who wouldn't come home; who wouldn't be found; who wouldn't go to another baseball game or swim in the ocean; who would never again kiss their spouses or parents or children goodnight. I thought about my own short, passionate life and all the wonderful dreams and aspirations I had and I wept for every dream that would never be chased.

We watched the news in almost every class that day. My German teacher declared that the news had nothing to do with learning German and we would not let the events in New York disrupt our schedule. I wore tons of smelly lotion all day just to bug her (She was extremely sensitive to perfume). It worked and I felt like I was defending Justice with Love Spell.

I vaguely remember the Principal making some kind of announcement and several kids pulled out early by their parents. I didn't cry very much until much later, but I felt a surge of patriotism and an overwhelming desire to comfort my friends and everyone affected by the tragedy. I remember wishing I could go to New York and help somehow.

The events of September 11, 2001 still feel like a life landmark to me. The feelings I experienced that day sparked new goals and perspective on my life. It was right about that time that I decided that whatever I do with my life, it would involve helping people in need, in some capacity or another. It made me realize how precious life really is.