story4853.xml

story4853.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

September 11, 2001 was a normal school day for me. Until 2:00. That's when the rumors that had been spreading through the hallways of the school reached me. Something had happened. The teachers had probably been advised not to tell us about the events that had happened in New York, Washington D.C., and my own state of Pennsylvania that morning. A few teachers had told their students, but most were in the dark. It still scares me to know that while I was upset about having PSSA practice testing that morning, three of America's most symbolic, and beautiful buildings were no longer beautiful, but ragged, torn, and crumbling to pieces, and many people who had brightly gone off to their jobs would not be returning.
I didn't find out anymore information for awhile, besides the fact that all field hockey and football games were canceled. Sports, especially football, are very prided in my school district, it would take a disaster to halt them. Unfortunately, it was indeed a disaster that did. I rode the bus home that day, like everyday since I was in kindergarten. Except that this time, I was scared to go home and find out the truth. I didn't have to wait a long time, I wasn't even home when I knew. My bus driver had whispered the most important details to a student who knew the basics.
When I got home, I went about my chores, which include feeding thirty young cattle on my father's dairy farm. Working side by side with my sister, she told me everything.
At first I was angry, not because of what happened, but because we hadn't been told before. The highschool had watched everything on television, and halted classes. Why couldn't the seventh and eighth grade classes have done the same? I thought we were mature enough to handle it, and we were, because we all returned to school the next day, inspite of the facts.
Then it hit me. We were right in the middle of a triangle of carnage. What would have happened if Flight 93 had been headed to Philadelphia? It could have crashed in my cornfield. That added an extra layer of reality to my world. This was a lot for a twelve year old to handle, but I could, because I had gone through a closer loss when I was much, much younger. The loss of my mother to cancer when I was four, prepared me, emotionally, for this devastating act. So I managed to stay strong for a few months, until things went back to normal.
Twelve months have elapsed since that day. Yet, last night, I think it finally hit me. Somewhere between the CNN News report that security had been upgraded to an orange alert, and remembering the words that my music teacher had spoke to the class a several hours before, about that they could or might have been also targeting our nuclear plants taht day, but thankfully changed their minds, in fear of their safety, I realized how lucky I am.
At any moment, with one fateful decision, or one false move on our part by angering the wrong people, my life could cease to exist as I know it. For the first time in a year, I shed tears over September 11th.