Sept 11, I was a sophomore in college in Logan, UT. My roommate, Beth, was watching the morning news when I came out of my bedroom that morning. I looked at the TV screen, saw the skyscraper with thick, black smoke coming out of the middle. Neither Beth or I, or anyone on the news at that time, really understood what had happened. Then we saw the plane come and hit the other tower. News kept rolling in as everyone tried to understand what was happening, and then they showed the Pentagon. And I lost it. DC was my home. My Dad works in defense, and thoughts went racing through my head, and of course I tried to call home but only got busy signals for hours and hours.
I went to my music theory class that morning, at 9am sharp. Our professor didn't even mention the attacks. Everyone was participating like nothing had happened. I remember thinking, Haven't they heard? What is wrong with everyone? I left class about 15 minutes in. I couldn't concentrate, worried about my family, especially my Dad. So I called my friend, who was in college in Hawaii. We grew up together and her family was still in DC, too. We both started crying - neither of us could reach our families and everything was so confusing that day.
I'll never forget where I was, the feelings I felt that day and the days following. This day affects all of us in different ways, some much more profoundly than my little story, but it helps us all remember. It unites us. I am grateful for the people that fought for life and our freedom that day, the days before, and the days following.