Remembering...

Today marks the seventh anniversary of the attack on 9/11. Each year, when this date rolls around, our television sets, internet sites, and radio stations become inundated with images and sounds of that day. Flags fly high from banks, schools, houses, places of business and cars. Banners reading "We Will Never Forget" are hung in public places. Moments of silence mark the times when the planes hit the Twin Towers, Pentagon and Shanksville, PA.

Every year, on this day, I am taken back to the fall of my senior year.

That morning, I woke up early and began my normal routine. Thoughts of my 18th birthday being 6 days away were running through my mind. I turned on the radio to the local Christian station, as I did every morning. The rest of my family was either asleep or just beginning to wake up. As I was in my room getting ready for the day I remember a breaking news report coming across the radio waves. The report stated that a plane had struck one of the twin towers. The first reports, as all of us know now, stated that it was a small plane. I freaked out. I ran into my parents room and turned on there TV to our local NBC station. The first images of the twin towers blared onto the screen. My mom, dad, sister and I were all standing there in silence. I think I may have asked what the Twin Towers were and why they were so important. I don't remember the answer I was given. I just remember thinking that the world was now a completely different place. I also remember thinking that the last time our nation had been struck by an outside force was back in 1942 when we were "ushered" into the second World War. I was terrified. My mom encouraged me to continue getting ready for school. I spitefully finished getting my things together, got in my car and headed off to school.

The halls of Redmond High were eerily quiet. Each classroom I passed had their TV's tuned into either CNN or NBC. Each screen held images of the Twin Towers. Teachers were whispering quietly to one another about what was going on. They were trying there best to shield the students from the harsh reality that was slowly unfolding on TV. My first class of the day was Health. I entered the classroom (one of the first students) to find my Health teacher crying quietly at her desk. She made an attempt to pull herself together and begin teaching, but could not do it. Since I was the oldest student in the class she turned to me and asked if I wouldn't mind teaching. Evidently she had a friend who worked in the North Tower with whom she had not been able to make contact.

I remember driving home, past houses, banks, and places of business seeing each flag flying mournfully half way down their poles. When I arrived home I immediately turned the TV on to find the steps of our Nation's capital filled with politicians standing shoulder to shoulder singing God Bless America. This image still moves me.

That evening, my dad opened up the church for people to come and pray for our nation. Several people turned out and gathered around the alter and lifted those who had perished, their families, and those in leadership of our nation, in prayer. The memory of that still moves me.

We found out later that one of our church people, a pilot of a large airline, had been in the air that day. His plane was escorted to a small airfield up north, by two fighter jets. We all found out later that this had been happening all over the nation. The skies were empty, the airports were closed. The nation was grieving.

What a day that was. A day that I will never forget. A day, a week before my birthday, that I will do my best to remember and recall as much as I can. A day where I will, from here on out, celebrate the courage. A day I will always, always remember.