Where were you?

It's interesting how you can name almost any significant historical event and people can tell you exactly where they were in that moment. I suppose I was too small during 9/11 to remember much, but this is what I do remember.

It was the day after my 11th birthday. I pulled myself slowly out of bed, rubbing my eyes. My mom had not yet come in to pester me about waking up, but it was still early. I stretched my arms above my head, then heard my stomach growl. It was time for breakfast. I yanked my door back and stepped out into the hallway, where I could see my Mom sitting at the table. She had a stack of papers in front of her--presumably our packet of information that we received on the first day of school that demanded our signature, as well as our parents', on all 20+ sheets of paper. I vowed that I would just make a stamp of my signature when I had children. The process seemed so tedious. But my Mom was not paying attention to the papers. Her eyes were glued on the television. I didn't think much of it. My mom always watched the news in the morning. As I walked toward the kitchen, she broke eye contact with the television and instead turned to me. "Devon, look." I turned toward the tv. A concerned news reporter was speaking on the television, while a small box showed a burning tower. A fire, I thought. It certainly went beyond my comprehension. I had decided a few years back not to watch the news because it all seemed the same (especially in L.A.): shootouts, car chases, bank robberies, missing children, etc. It was like watching a scary movie, but it was all real. 

I looked back at her, giving her a look of confusion. I didn't understand what set this apart. She started to explain to me what happened, but I still didn't understand. I watched as the plane hit the tower. All I saw was a tragedy, not a terrorist attack. I don't even remember if that had been considered by reporters yet. It was only when the second plane hit that everyone began freaking out, my mom included. The fear infected me, but I still didn't understand. What did this mean? Who did this? What exactly were the motives of these people they called "terrorists?" I was driven to school (which I don't understand now... most people's school got cancelled). I don't remember the teachers ever mentioning it. I think they tried to avoid it, to keep us calm. But I remember there was tension. So much tension. 

I don't remember much else from that day, but each year that I look back, I feel the gravity and emotions of the event hit me harder each time. So much tragedy. So many lives lost. So much bravery. So much self sacrifice. So much heartache. 

It kills me. Those two towers, which I had seen a few times on my visits to New York as a kid, are now gone, as are the people that were in them. Fathers, brothers, sisters, mothers, cousins, lovers, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles... families suffered so much loss. 

The terrorists may have achieved their mission: they hit the nation hard. We suffered. We all were left hurting, especially those in New York. And the terrorists received the war they ultimately wanted. But they didn't break us. We will never forget that fateful day. Our nation continues to come together on 9/11 to remember those that we lost. I know I will never forget them. 

I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free, and I won't forget the men who died [on 9/11 in this country]

So my question is... where were you? What do you remember?