Innocent; free from sin, blameless, candid, unaware.
Victim; one hurt by an action beyond his control.
We associate those words too much on a particular day in September. Thousands of innocent victims that were harmed based on an action too severely evil, the thought makes you glance down at your feet or close your eyes, as if to block the images striking in your head. They sting your thoughts and hammer at your heart and you wonder if all the faith and love you had for those who’d died would have been able to stop the attack, but the realistic side of you knows that it’s untrue.
I can’t say enough about September 11th, 2001, however, I’m only able to say such little. I cannot describe the feeling I have for the people that were lost and for the people that have lost. Words of such intense definition do not even coexist with the words we use today. Awful, horrible, tragic, only suffice for such mere meaning of the day. The true words are the things we cannot say.
I can’t recall what I did that day, what I ate for breakfast, or even who I was with. I can only remember the moment where I was standing infront of my small television in my room watching with wide eyes in awe. I was only in preschool, barely five years old. My tv was small but I could see the gigantic towers soaring high in my room, the event casting over me, taking up the entire space.
The first plane had crashed, and there came the second to hit the sister tower. I could imagine the towers using all their might to keep up, each wanting to reach for one another and help them rise again. The hatred that blew into their sides, broke the hold they had on each other.
There was a sprawl of fire, and clouds of smoke summitting into the air. People came fluttering out of the windows, falling with the towers, knowing they were to die. I would never have been able to decide what to do if I was set into that situation with no escape. Do I die at the hands of evil, or at the hands of my own will?
As I stood over my television watching, I could only imagine the rest of the world doing the same. Now, I realize it was our Great Nation standing over the towers, like I was over my tv, watching them fall, able to do nothing. We saw one of our symbols fall… at the power of an enemy.
Waking up the next day, I thought how I could not withstand not seeing my mother, father, sister, brother, not being there to greet me in the morning. How can a child go through life without them because they were murdered? The terrorists who had hijacked the planes knew full well what they were doing. I cannot fathom the thought that there are people out there in the world like that. I do not comprehend the surge of joy they feel when they murder thousands of people. I do not even see how that kind of person exists.
I lived in a world where the grass turned green, the snow was white, and the sun would always shine. I never had a feeling where I did not feel safe in the security of my country, the great United States. Now, I am not so sure. I wish that we didn’t have to face these fears, and I pray that my future generations won’t have too, either. I know that is it possible.
The US, pushing over only two hundred years, has outshone the growth of any country in the world but rising up and overcoming obstacles. I feel that we can rise from September 11th. And we did. Now, with tomorrow being the anniversary, we need to regain the strength we once had where we were invisible and show how much we are rising and all of the hatred people built for us, is nothing compared to the love and nationalism we have for our country.
The Fallen Towers are still there today. They have been born from the ashes. Standing taller than ever, nothing will ever be able to knock them down. Structured by the love and pride of the United States, it will stand tall and forever. People who do not see them there, do not understand. They will never be torn down because of a ludicrous attack.
They will rise.