Time flies. It's strange to think that eleven years ago today, I woke up ready for another regular day in the sixth grade. I'm sure I had some homework assignment or other that I hadn't done, or a big project coming up that I was worried about--as you know, sixth graders have much on their plates. All of that flew out the window as soon as my mom turned on the TV.
Being on the west coast, it wasn't in real time for us, but that didn't make it just as real. Being only 10, I can't say I really understood the full impact of what had happened. All I knew was that some people I'd never heard of killed a lot of people, and it was the first act of true violence and hatred I'd ever witnessed. The fact that it was over television and thousands of miles away did little to lessen the blow to my innocent heart.
I knew there were kids without fathers or mothers, parents without their children, and families that had been whole that morning were now torn apart. Even though I didn't understand much, I knew all that, and it was enough to make me cry my eyes out.
Now, it's odd that life goes on. A normal day at work, plans for the future, talking with friends. The world keeps turning and it's as if nothing has changed.
So I'm taking a moment out of my day to remember the naive sadness I felt merely by the loss of so many people who all had hopes and dreams for the future even as I do, and I hope that others will do the same. We can't do much for those who were lost, but we can remember, and keep them in our hearts so that their dreams don't die with them.
As a final thought, I'd like to quote Love, Actually, although I know it's cheesy. I think it's good to remember that "when the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love."
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