where were you?

That seems to be the most asked question when on the subject of national tragedy. Where were you when you heard? When you saw the footage on TV? I remember where I was. I was 14, in my freshman year of highschool at Cottage Hill Christian Academy. When the first plane hit, I was in gym class. Someone came running into the gym toward a group of girls playing indoor volleyball, where they huddled together in concerned conversation and after a minute or two, one girl backed away with her face in her hands. They made an announcement over the school's intercom system that something terrible had happened; that our country had been attacked. That announcement was the only solid news we heard during the course of the rest of the day. None of the teachers in any class would turn on a TV so we could see what was happening. I'm sure their intentions were in the right place, but sitting through every class, where everyone couldn't stop talking about it, wondering what was going on, and with no one around willing to divulge details, was kind of nerve-racking.

Like everyday, I caught a ride home with a friend and got home before my mom did, who was picking up my little brother from middle school. My mom had talked to me on the phone (I think I called her when I got home? I can't quite remember) and told me not to watch the news by myself... but I did anyway. I sat in our den, downstairs, alone, with only the sunlight that filtered through the heavy curtains and the ambient light from the TV, and watched. They played the footage over, and over again. I cried. I bawled. I didn't even know anyone involved, but just to see the horror unfold and to know that it was something so unexpected... was terrifying.

My mom and brother came home to me still tearing up to it. My memory ends when they arrive.


The photo above is the only one I own of the twin towers. It was taken about 2 years before. I'm the chubby little girl pictured with my cousin and my grandmother. My aunt took the photo.