On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up in a good mood. I had recently purchased a rainbow turtleneck sweater and jean skirt with pink heart decals from Old Navy. The evening before, I had decided to sport the new outfit to school the following day. The morning in middle school started off normal; TA groups followed by social studies. Mid-way through social studies, the principal came on the overhead and asked everyone to please return to their TA groups. No one knew what was going on. A surprise fire drill? Once in our TA groups, we were told the news about the World Trade Center attack. It is hard for me to piece together exactly what I felt. Was I in shock? Too young to understand the significance of the attack or what it meant for the future of our country? I do not recall crying, although I can remember that others did. I remember calling my mother from the TA room and asking if she was alright.
Flashforward to September 11, 2010; last year. I had just printed off the recommended-supply-list for Peace Corps Volunteers going to Niger and was considering what things I still needed to buy. I turned on the television to CNN to watch the ceremony from the World Trade Center. I do not remember the ceremony though. What I remember were people fighting; one group who wanted to build a mosque several blocks down from where the Twin Towers stood, the other group who did not want the mosque built. I kept thinking, isn't this what they wanted? Doesn't Al Quaeda want to break our nation apart like this? I started to cry, and then shut off CNN before heading to work in the afternoon.
Today was the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001. It was raining when I woke up this morning. It was raining all day and so I stayed in my house. I made myself oatmeal for breakfast and gave some to my dog. I read a little bit, and when the rain turned to a drizzle, I walked to the hospital in the early afternoon to say hello to my supervisor and his family. Even if I tried, I could not be more-removed from the ceremonies and rememberings and words about 9/11. And here I am still thinking about it. I find myself thinking about Al Quaeda and what they are doing in this world. What they did ten years ago today, and more recently, what they did this past January when I was in Niger. It is because of them that I am here in Cameroon and not there. It is because of them that our nation's history has forever been changed. My supervisor didn't understand when I tried to explain to him what a "flashbulb memory" is; one that sticks with you forever, rainbow turleneck, jean skirt, and all.
Flashforward to September 11, 2010; last year. I had just printed off the recommended-supply-list for Peace Corps Volunteers going to Niger and was considering what things I still needed to buy. I turned on the television to CNN to watch the ceremony from the World Trade Center. I do not remember the ceremony though. What I remember were people fighting; one group who wanted to build a mosque several blocks down from where the Twin Towers stood, the other group who did not want the mosque built. I kept thinking, isn't this what they wanted? Doesn't Al Quaeda want to break our nation apart like this? I started to cry, and then shut off CNN before heading to work in the afternoon.
Today was the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001. It was raining when I woke up this morning. It was raining all day and so I stayed in my house. I made myself oatmeal for breakfast and gave some to my dog. I read a little bit, and when the rain turned to a drizzle, I walked to the hospital in the early afternoon to say hello to my supervisor and his family. Even if I tried, I could not be more-removed from the ceremonies and rememberings and words about 9/11. And here I am still thinking about it. I find myself thinking about Al Quaeda and what they are doing in this world. What they did ten years ago today, and more recently, what they did this past January when I was in Niger. It is because of them that I am here in Cameroon and not there. It is because of them that our nation's history has forever been changed. My supervisor didn't understand when I tried to explain to him what a "flashbulb memory" is; one that sticks with you forever, rainbow turleneck, jean skirt, and all.
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