It is tradition for me, to post this short story I wrote a few years ago, on the anniversary of 9.11. I tend to tweak this story every year based on how my knowledge of the situation grows. Please remember, this date was important, it was the only time after Pearl Harbor that we were attacked on our own soil. This date is yet another date that shall live in infamy.
It is 9.11.
My eardrums are exploding from all the noise and screaming. I am covered in a thick coating of ash. We never thought anything like this would happen. I see mothers, wives, children, husbands, fathers, all receiving, news, good or bad. Or others anxiously awaiting news hoping it wont drastically change their lives. I grope around looking for people I can help. I try to remember what happened, something that happened so quickly, destroying so many peoples views on life. It was a plane. Nothing seemed wrong. We, as pedestrians continued to move along, in our daily routines that were part of the rush of the city. Then, before we realize it ash, fire, and debris hit us from behind. Suddenly, the rest of the world is a blur, people hear screams of pain, the crumbling of a building, and soon, we would hear the crash and burn of another plane into a building. We were simply pedestrians. Yet, a half hour after we walked out of our homes ready to start the day we are rushing around helping each other. Comforting the families in tears. Or the families hopelessly praying for their loved ones. I help the others up as we go around. We were too close to the world trade center. It sent us flying in the air as it dusted up. But we were also lucky, we werent the ones immediately killed as the plane slammed into the framework of the building. I go around, trying to help and comfort as many as possible, but for some it is simply too late. Our lives are forever changed. No one will ever be the same, and so many are killed. This is the date everyone will remember as 9.11.
A/N: I myself hold 9.11 close to my heart because every week my dad gets on a plane and flies to his job. The reality is the world is a scary place.
The even scarier and sadder reality? My dad is stopped in airports by security all the time just because of how he looks and his name.
He is isreali.
However, this does not matter to 9.11. On 9.11 he was standing in the airport. The exact same airport that the terrorists left from.
He did not board any of the hijacked flights. His flight was delayed. And while waiting he discovered what had happened in New York.
He showed up at our home in Arizona in a rental car later.
I do not cry when I see the world trade center fall, because the sad reality is I was to young to remember what happened.
But I do have a heart, and I feel for all the families who lost someone dear.
Do not think of America today.
Think of the families of someone who died because of an act of hatred.