Where were you when our Nation was attacked? For those of us that are old enough, certain events stand out in our minds; we remember where we were and what we were doing.
I live in North Central Texas.
That Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I had just awakened, gotten dressed for work, and came downstairs with my twin sister. Like I always do every morning, I turned on our local news; it helps me to wake up. I now wish I hadn’t turned it on, but that wouldn’t have changed anything.
It was around 7:40 A.M. CDT, and the usual news, weather and sports was on; kind of like background noise. Suddenly, a breaking story ensued: a plane had (apparently) accidently ran into one of the World Trade Center Towers. I looked at my sister, and we both expressed shock and horror. I thought it was bound to happen one of these days. We said a prayer for those affected…and then…and then…the second plane came in and hit the second Tower.
THE SECOND PLANE CAME IN AND HIT THE SECOND TOWER.
Deliberately. It angled in. Aimed right for the Tower. Right then and there, I KNEW. I KNEW we were under attack. This was NO accident. A sick feeling of shock…fear…horror…unbelief. NO WAY, man, NOT HERE. Not in the United States. Not IN the UNITED STATES!!!!
I had to go to work, so I didn’t get to watch the news until much later on in the evening. My twin was so upset at what she had seen, she turned off the news and refused to watch.
When I got home later on in the day, she was still scared and upset, so we went to church. Afterward, we got a bite to eat and came home. She went to bed and thankfully, slept well.
Not me.
I turned on the TV and watched the news for three straight hours. The images played over and over and over and over and over and OVER again, searing into my mind. The planes hitting. The bursts of smoke and flame. Paper and debris falling like confetti, like at a ticker tape parade. People jumping. The Towers falling–first one, then the other. The awful cloud of dust and debris chasing people down the streets. The looks of shock on everyone’s faces. The President speaking to our Nation, tears and steely resolve in his eyes. The sight of Congress spontaneously singing, “God Bless America”.
I saw all this, and more. I cried like I had never cried before, and wrote the first of many poems I’ve written since that day.
Where were you on September 11? I know where I was, and I’ll never forget. I know where I was when Kennedy was shot. I know where I was when man first landed on the moon. I know where I was when Elvis died. When the Challenger exploded. When the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed. And now, when America was attacked.
Author: Karla Dorman
Page Title: Where Were You on 9/11?
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