9-11-01 to 9-11-11
September 11. Rings some of the most heart wrenching bells in our ears. It always sends chills down our spins and up our bodies. It triggers the tears we have sometimes held back for 10 years. But it is a day we will always remember and therefore NEVER FORGET....
I was eleven years old when this moment, this event, occurred. Mrs. Allen's 6th grade class at Foothill. Radio blasting and non of us having a clue what it meant. But that's not how the morning started. I was laying in bed. And I heard my sisters say "Mom! That plane just hit that building.... And that one did too!" But none of us knew what that meant. How it would change our lives. How it would change others lives. How it would change the world. HOW IT WOULD CHANGE AMERICA.
I had a dentist appointment that day. And I remember driving into Orange County with my mom. Boys holding up newspapers on the street corners... Extra Extra! And somehow, driving through those streets, it seemed desolate. Like a ghost town. Cars driving slower than usual. Stoplights, lasting longer than normal. But there was not a rush in any part of that moment. NO RUSH.
Since that day, 10 years ago, I have been to my fair share visits of New York. But it was not until I lived there that I truly got hold of that impact. I understood the horror, and the fear, and the tears that rolled down the faces of millions that day. But it was not until I walked off the E subway at its last stop... World Trade Center... that I was able to physically feel that emotional day. I can still hear the subway saying "the next stop is the World Trade Center... This is the World Trade Center." Then, you get off the subway, you walk down the platform, out the turnstile, up the stairs AND ITS NOT THERE! Instead you hear the sounds of cops whistles blowing to let people cross the street. And where two humongous buildings once stood are fenced off holes of memories. I walked by that way nearly every other week sometimes. And every time it was the same. The sounds made sense for a minute, then they didn't. I would make the sign of the cross as I passed the crowds of people staring into the skies that once were hidden by the walls of offices. And I would make my way down the street and away from the scene. After living in NY I knew the sounds of the city, the cabs, the footsteps of people, the chatter, the cellphones, the crossing guards, the tourists languages, the opening of paper Manhattan maps, workers, honking cars, angry locals, but those sounds seemed to always go silent as I walked out of the subway station and onto the streets. And in that little block radius from subway car doors to a block past where the towers once stood I heard sometimes nothing. I must of subconsciously turned it off. IT WAS SILENT!
I was eleven years old when this moment, this event, occurred. Mrs. Allen's 6th grade class at Foothill. Radio blasting and non of us having a clue what it meant. But that's not how the morning started. I was laying in bed. And I heard my sisters say "Mom! That plane just hit that building.... And that one did too!" But none of us knew what that meant. How it would change our lives. How it would change others lives. How it would change the world. HOW IT WOULD CHANGE AMERICA.
I had a dentist appointment that day. And I remember driving into Orange County with my mom. Boys holding up newspapers on the street corners... Extra Extra! And somehow, driving through those streets, it seemed desolate. Like a ghost town. Cars driving slower than usual. Stoplights, lasting longer than normal. But there was not a rush in any part of that moment. NO RUSH.
Since that day, 10 years ago, I have been to my fair share visits of New York. But it was not until I lived there that I truly got hold of that impact. I understood the horror, and the fear, and the tears that rolled down the faces of millions that day. But it was not until I walked off the E subway at its last stop... World Trade Center... that I was able to physically feel that emotional day. I can still hear the subway saying "the next stop is the World Trade Center... This is the World Trade Center." Then, you get off the subway, you walk down the platform, out the turnstile, up the stairs AND ITS NOT THERE! Instead you hear the sounds of cops whistles blowing to let people cross the street. And where two humongous buildings once stood are fenced off holes of memories. I walked by that way nearly every other week sometimes. And every time it was the same. The sounds made sense for a minute, then they didn't. I would make the sign of the cross as I passed the crowds of people staring into the skies that once were hidden by the walls of offices. And I would make my way down the street and away from the scene. After living in NY I knew the sounds of the city, the cabs, the footsteps of people, the chatter, the cellphones, the crossing guards, the tourists languages, the opening of paper Manhattan maps, workers, honking cars, angry locals, but those sounds seemed to always go silent as I walked out of the subway station and onto the streets. And in that little block radius from subway car doors to a block past where the towers once stood I heard sometimes nothing. I must of subconsciously turned it off. IT WAS SILENT!
The lives that were lost, the lives that were saved. The tears that were cried, the yells that were screamed. The hands that were held, the ears that were covered. That day is forever a piece of our lives, our past, our present, & our future.
God Bless those that put their lives at risk to save those they did not know.
Comments
Post a Comment