Picture it: A five-year-old sticks to a strict morning routine, and at precisely 7:48 am, she steps foot on a school bus as usual. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and there was never a doubt that the day would be any different from the day before. Upon arriving at Ida Elementary School, she was greeted at the door by the principal and met her friends in the classroom. With the ring of a bell, the day could officially begin at 8:00 am. “Gooood morning, Ida Elementary Students” echoed over the P.A. system, as only the principal could do. At the conclusion of the announcements, the Pledge of Allegiance was recited in unison. And so the day went on. Meanwhile, at home, her parents go back inside from the bus stop to have their morning coffee and watch Good Morning America. The usual headlines are discussed and every fifteen minutes bring the weather forecast. Normalcy was the theme for everyone that morning. The thoughts that anyone could be in some type of danger was the furthest thoughts they had. At 8:46 am, the unthinkable happened. American Airlines Flight 11 flew between the ninety-third and ninety-ninth floors of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Shortly after this time, Charlie Gibson and Diane Sawyer held the responsibility to break the tragic news to all Americans. The ticker tape at the bottom of the screen quickly switched to the topic of national security, and all other headlines were in the shadows. Every few minutes, videos of the fiery flames from the tower rolled and constant reminders of this reality were reflected into the eyes of Americans. Mistaken for an instant replay, seventeen minutes after the North Tower was struck, another plane roars between the seventy-fifth and eighty-fifth floors of the South Tower at 9:03 am. The live broadcast from a nearby chopper captured the United Airlines Flight 175 striking the tower, confirming the country had been attacked by terrorists. Panic ensued, and fear set in. Millions of people were now glued to television screens at home, at school, and at work. So many questions needed answers and the need for security grew in every minute that passed. Two more planes had been hijacked that morning. American Airlines Flight 77 crashed at the Pentagon at 9:37 am. Washington D.C. was now in immediate danger and national security was thrown into high gear. The final plane crashed in a Pennsylvania county field. The people aboard United Airlines Flight 93 made frantic phone calls to the people they never imagined the kiss goodbye that morning would be the last. Final farewells were exchanged in the last moments before the plane landed tragically at 10:07 am. At 9:59 am and 10:28 am, the North and South Towers, respectively, of the World Trade Center, fell to the earth. As the towers fell, a cloud of debris invaded the bluest of blues sky. Lives were swallowed by the unfortunate pull of gravity; this made it almost impossible to escape the horror. Nothing could prepare the world to watch two iconic buildings fall and no longer be, leaving a gaping hole in New York City’s skyline where the Twin Towers once stood so tall. The half-day Kindergarten dismissal came at the normal time of 11:30 am, but normalcy would soon vacate the day for the students. The bus that had normally taken off from the elementary school made an additional stop to pick up the ‘big kids.’ This was new; something was going on. The buses filled with three buildings worth of students, and the bus’s atmosphere was hushed. Talk over the bus radios was minimal, and there was a distinct feeling that fell within the bus that each student needed to be delivered home quickly and safely. The young girl was greeted at the end of the driveway by a quiet dad who hurried the two back inside. Once inside, she noticed an additional television that had not been there that morning when she left. Not much was exchanged about the morning’s happenings in the short time she was away at school. Finding it odd that Peter Jennings was broadcasting so early in the day, she went about coloring and enjoying the treat of a television set to herself. Later, she would discover that it was an aid in the distraction from the national tragedy that had the nation preoccupied, especially her parents. Evening fell, and President George W. Bush made his first press conference appearance at 8:30 pm. During his address to the American people, he stated that the events of that morning were, “evil acts of terrorism.” Although this address did not seem to ease the minds of the citizens, it did solidify that it was, in fact, a reality and not just a nightmare that would vanish with a new day’s dawn. It seemed as though time stood still for a small eternity. The news played constantly and reports of new findings came back-to-back. Shocked by the events and horror it had caused, Americans were caught vulnerable by emotions. America’s stronghold was shattered and thoughts of being the untouchable were invalid. I think it obvious that the five-year-old girl was me. My generation is arguably the last one to be able to recall the day from firsthand accounts. Sure, my recollection of some aspects are hazy, but for the most part, I can piece the day together from my exposure to the events, despite my parents’ efforts to shield me from them that day. This day had an impact on me, even if at the time I could not comprehend the severity of the events. Through the years, my memory has been cushioned by documentaries and playbacks on each year’s anniversary. The day still does not make sense to me, but it is important to be mindful of the day that changed the way Americans would live and think for years to come. Fifteen Septembers have come and gone since that horrific day in American history. First responders and law enforcement suited up and willingly walked into two unstable buildings to save the lives of many, knowing they would be risking their own. They upheld their duty to put others first and serve. For the people who walked into work just as they had in days past, I think about the families they left behind. Nothing could ever fill the void left in the hearts of all of those families. It is hard to fathom what it would be like losing the people who mean the most and having your world turn upside down in an instant. Thinking about the events of that day makes my heart ache, and it brings tears to my eyes. Grief overcame our nation. Because of those events, the way we think has shifted from complete optimism to total skepticism. We fear people who are unlike us. We fear places that resemble differences. We fear for the sake of fearing. Before, people would zip through the airports and board a plane without a problem. Now, the airports are under high surveillance and some have reservations about what could happen while in the air. I wish we lived in a world where one event did not further dictate negative thought processes and encourage trepidation. It is evident that life is short and tomorrow is never promised, but as we continue to build from tragedy, I hope that we begin to see life in a renewed perspective. Tuesday, September 11, 2001, was a day in America’s history that was tearfully watched by millions. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2016
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