I was in Spanish class, my senior year of high school. A teacher literally ran down the hall, threw the door open, and yelled, "TURN THE TV ON NOW." My teacher turned of "Destinos" and turned on Good Morning America. The first tower had been hit. We watched the second plane hit the second building. My stomach dropped. We watched the buildings fall, and the smoke rise. At that moment, my teacher said, "America will never be the same," in her cute Costa Rican accent. I was so sad, and so scared. Sad for all those men, women, husbands, wives, daddies, mommies, sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters. Scared that these attacks may happen all over America. Scared to drive home. Scared for my friends in NYC.
A year later, I sat on a grassy hill in Boone, looking at the clouds and thinking about the year that had passed. In that year, alot of things changed. I graduated high school, went to college, gained a pride in my country that I had never known before, and I also stood silent behind a chain link fence while peering through a collage of notes, flowers, and photos into a canyon of debris and death juxtaposed in a vibrant city. I couldn't believe a year had passed.
This morning, I had no clue it was September 11. I am so sorry I let the time slip by me. And as I sit behind a computer in my office, instead of on a grassy hill in Boone, I can't believe that seven years have passed.