Ten Years Later~

I remember it well.  I was sitting in a meeting on September 11, 2001 with a parent, a psychologist, and our counselor.  The counselor was explaining Post Truamatic Stress Disorder in regards to two young men who had moved to Houston in the last year from Iraq.  They had been  hiding in the basement of their Middle Eastern home for two years due to the raging battles in the street outside their home.  They moved to the United States, looking for a safe haven, but their experiences had had a profound effect on the boys who were struggling to find their place in a world that is not always safe.

I walked up the stairs to my classroom and heard about the first plane attack on the Twin Towers.  By the time I reached my door, the second plane had struck.  I turned on the television as my eighth grade students arrived.  We watched with fear and a morbid curiousity the smoke and the devastation.  Our school went on lock-down.  No one moved.  We were unsure about what would happen not only in the next few moments, but for the rest of our lives.

Our oldest daughter had graduated in the spring and was in her first semester at Baylor.  I phoned her and she sleepily answered.  I told her  to turn on her television.  I wasn't sure whether to tell her to come home or to stay put.  Reporters were looking at other possible targets, and Houston, with its refineries and ports, was high on the list.  I told her to stay put but to be ready to move to safety.  I have never felt so helpless.

Parents began arriving to pick up their children, abandoning their jobs in favor of rescuing their children.  About half of our students were whisked away to their homes, uniting with families for whatever might happen.  Soon, reports of the Pentagon attack were on the screen.  The towers showed citizens throwing themselves out of 30 and 40 story windows.  First responders were streaming all over the sites, trying to save the lives of those trapped inside.  And then, the unthinkable happened.  As my remaining students and I huddled around the television, the first tower crumbled and imploded.  Ashen bodies ran through the streets, looking for escape.  And then the second one fell.  It really did feel as though the world had stopped revolving.

As the horror continued, we all went home and settled in to discover what tomorrow would hold.  The skies were silent, heads were bowed, and life stood still.  It would be weeks and months before we were able to absorb the harsh realities of the attacks on the United States.  We would listen to stories of sacrifice and courage as tears streamed down our faces.  Never again would we feel that complete lack of fear from the last forty years. 

Today, we remember.  Today, we mourn.  But today, we find that being an American carries with it hope, overcoming, and pride.  God Bless America today and always.