The day that changed our world

I had just started the first semester of my first year of college. It was a short day, I only had one class in the morning, and Steve had finished up early too. We were driving home. I was enjoying my freedom as a college student, being able to come and go as I pleased. I was enjoying spending time with my boyfriend. I was innocent and naive.

Steve and I were driving along the highway listening to our favorite radio station. The DJ had a tendency to blow things out of proportion when doing any sort of news coverage, it was his style I guess. So when he interrupted the song that was on the radio to say that a commuter plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center I was unsure. I looked at Steve and he said, "It was probably an accident and hopefully no one was hurt. We're almost home, I'll turn on the news when we get there." We drove the rest of the way in silence.

Once we got to my house I ran into the living room and turned on the "Today Show" just in time to see the coverage of the second plane hitting the second tower. I couldn't move from the television. I sat with my mouth open and my eyes filling with tears. Once again I looked to Steve for clarification. With the exception of my Dad, Steve is the strongest guy I know - he would be able to explain to me what was happening and why because my 18 year old mind could not comprehend this. Steve just looked at me and said in a whisper, "I don't know Kim". We sat on opposite ends of the couch in silence watching.We watched as the news reporters, whose broadcast had ended hours before, continued reporting. We watched as the news reporters that we trusted to report the news honestly and give explanations for the ways of the world, were attempting to hold it together. We watched as people covered in gray ash, sobbing, ran through the streets of New York aimlessly. We watched fire trucks and ambulances speeding to and from the scene. We watched the smoke rise.

My attention was diverted from the coverage when my mom arrived home. I remember, vividly, her walking into the living room where Steve and I were sitting. She was sobbing. "Do you understand what is happening? This world is never going to be the same again", she said. Those were the last words spoken for a while.

It was almost too much to take when the reports of the Pentagon and Pennsylvania came in.

In the days that followed September 11th I watched this nation come together in a way I had never experienced. We were stunned, we were angry, we were hurt, we were grieving. Those were our sky scrapers, our planes, our government building, our people who sacrificed their lives to down that plane in a field and spare the White House. Those were our fire fighters and our police officers risking their lives, racing into the unknown, when everyone else was just trying to get out. This was our Nation that our people built from the ground up. How dare you.

In this unimaginable devastation this country came together. I had never given blood in my lifetime (blame an awful aversion to needles), but in the days following I stood in line with hundreds of others. In that long line we talked about how helpless we felt, and this very very small act was one thing we knew we could do.

Several months following the attack Steve and I flew to New England to visit my family. Taped to the front door of my Grandmother's house was a colored picture of the American flag printed from her computer. During this visit we took a trip to New York City. This was Steve's first time - I had been before. I had the privilege of seeing the New York City skyline - Twin Towers included. I carried a picture I had taken of the original skyline in my coat pocket during our visit. We stopped at all of the tourist spots, including the Empire State Building. Walking out onto the observation deck to see the skyline I could hear Steve whisper, "Wow". I took the picture out of my pocket, held it in front of us, and said "Now you can say "Wow".

10 years later I am a married mother. I think I feel the hurt and loss from that day even more then I did all those years ago. I think of the husbands, wives, fathers and mothers that were lost. I think of the spouses and children who carry this day with them everyday.

In the days leading up today, leading up to the anniversary, I have heard people say "Don't focus on the negative". I am not focusing on the negative. The acts that took place that day were evil and that is not what I choose to focus on. I am focusing on the loss, on the brave, and I am remembering. The least I can do is remember today, and everyday, and share these memories with my daughter. So that, even though she was not alive when this event took place, she will have an understanding of the enormity of what happened. She will understand the priceless sacrifices that were made and how this has shaped the world she lives in. A world that is very different from the one I once lived in. It is my job to make sure she understands. It is my job and yours to always remember.