National Day of Remembrance

Every year at this time I think of that Alan Jackson song asking if you remember where you were on that September morning. I don't think I've ever written down my memories of 9/11/2001, but with the tenth anniversary being tomorrow, the timing feels right.

We were living in Montana, in my father-in-law's house. Jason and I were both attending school at the University of Montana and Tegan was about to turn one. We actually had a birthday party planned for him that Saturday at the lake. My parents and sister with her family were scheduled to come. It was my first child's first birthday and I was really looking forward to it. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by Jason's family so that weekend was set to be a bit of a break for me.

On that morning, I had slept in so I was just getting up and listening to the radio when I first heard the news. Jason had already gotten up and gone to class, so it was just me and Tegan. At first I didn't understand the news report. I thought it was a bit of a joke, but then it kept on going. I turned on the tv and could barely believe what I was seeing. It's hard to remember exactly what my feelings were at the time, since I have had so many other feelings about it since, but it seems like I was bewildered. What was happening? Why did they keep showing smoke coming from a building? Unfortunately things became more clear when the plane hit the second tower. Because it was broadcast live, I saw that event. Live. As it was happening. It was terrible. The idea that the devastation appearing on tv was actually going on to real people right then was horrific.

So how do you go on? When Jason got home, he didn't know too much about it. I went to class, but the teacher let us go early because none of us could really focus - including her. I had another class later that day, but I can't remember if I went or not. I couldn't stop thinking about the people in New York.

Jason was working in a restaurant then and I think he went to work, but they closed early. I couldn't seem to stop watching the news coverage. Who would do this? Those poor people! How much they suffered. I'm actually tearing up a bit right now just remembering. What really got me at the end of the day was that the people who were killed didn't do anything different than what I would do. They got up and went to work. They weren't soldiers. We weren't at war. Their big crime was being Americans and/or going to work in America. That sounds a awful lot like me. I fill both those requirements. So does my family. Does that mean we deserve the same fate? Only if the victims deserved it first, which they didn't.

We put a US flag up outside the house to show our support and solidarity. We were all New Yorkers that day. I was surprised when I went to class the next day and heard countless students list off why what happened was our own fault. To this day I struggle with that sentiment. Please don't blame the victim. They don't deserve it.

So here we are ten years later. It seems like the wound is still fresh and bleeding. We are involved in wars in multiple countries. Has anything been resolved? I don't know.

Feel free to leave comments if you like. I would love to hear your memories too.