It's so strange to look down at the calendar, over at my phone, or even in my email. It all tells me what day it is, and I can't believe it. September 11, 2012. Has it really been eleven years already? I still remember exactly what I was doing the morning it happened. In fact, I can recall the whole day (not hard, since most of it was spent on the couch, glued to CNN...)
The lighting was different; it was lit for tragedy, and I should have known. It was the same eerily beautiful bright blue outside in Kansas; the same way it was the day my step-dad died a few years before. For once, I was actually taking my time getting ready for school, because my first class had been cancelled (he had a wrestling convention to go to; why do I remember THAT?!?!). I was in my bathroom, straightening my hair when my mom started screaming for me. I threw down the straightener, and ran to the other side of the house, only to sit down next to mom in silence.
Somehow, after the towers fell, I went to class, only to be met with mass confusion. They cancelled classes, and I went back to watch CNN for the next week. Waiting for answers, waiting for a miracle.
The world changed that day, and I changed with it. I grew up. I found fear. Sometimes, in the back of my mind, I wonder if today will be our last. If when I say "I love you" to my son or husband, it'll be the last time I'll get to hear it back. Yes, the terrorists have infiltrated my brain, and I hope one day, the world will find peace, enough to bring back our peace of mind.
I will never forget.
Where were you 11 years ago?