9/11 after 7

I went to bed last night thinking of how seven years ago I went to bed that same night carefree and unaware of the events that were to unfold the next morning that would change our country forever. Like most Americans at the time, I could not even imagine an attack of that magnitude on our own soil. Like my parent's generation with the Kennedy assasination, I can tell you exactly where I was when I found out about the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and Flight 93. I was a sophmore in college, and I was heading in to my 9:30 economics class. A friend of mine said "Did you hear about that plane that hit the Twin Tower?". At the time I didn't realize the magnitude of the situation. I imagined it was one of those cesna planes, and kinda shrugged it off. My economics professor went the whole class without mentioning it. The next class I went to was history of photography. We were supposed to have a quiz, and I hadn't really studied for it. When I sat down, my teacher said we would not be having the quiz because of the situation. I was a little confused, but glad I didn't have the quiz. She started saying that if anyone needed to leave they could, or if anyone wanted to talk about it we could. Finally, through bits and pieces, I was beginning to get the picture. After that class, I was walking to the bus, and I went through the student union, and I remember it was so silent. There were tvs playing the news (which was unusual) and students were gathered all around. It wasn't until I got home that I really had a chance to see for myself what was happening. It was terrifying. I don't say that lightly. The imagery is still just as vivid and unbelievable in my mind today as it was on the screen that day. I remember feeling so helpless and in shock. The not knowing who was responsible was particularly unsettling. I was glued to the tv for days. I remember celebrating when they found survivors each day, but grew so disheartened as the days passed and soon no more celebrations would be had.

I remember how close I felt to every American, just because we all felt the same hurt. I remember how everyone displayed a flag, and "God Bless America" was plastered everywhere. In the days following September 11th, I photographed those things wherever I saw them. It was such a swell of patriotism that I won't ever forget.

I had started keeping a journal the night of September 10th, 2001. My first entry was a stupid poem about my boyfriend, and about how we were going to get married and have kids and be together forever. Such a silly and trivial entry, before the next night's entry. I regret that I didn't write more about how I was feeling. Mostly I would just recap the news. But I am glad I have it. I have read it on almost every anniversary of 9/11.

After all of the devastation and fear that was 9/11, I never would have imagined then that thoughts of those days would ever leave my mind. Yet, I find that I think about it very infrequently now. When I do stop and think (usually on the anniversary) I feel a little ashamed. Ashamed of how quickly I have re-learned how to take everything that I have for granted: my family and friends, my safety, my freedom, my extreme privilege to be an American. Last night I was struck by how now, I fall asleep with pretty much the same assumption that tomorrow will be just like today.

To those who lost more than the rest of us on that Tuesday in September 2001, you are in my prayers. The one's who lost their lives are honored, and serve as a poignant reminder to not take one moment for granted with the ones you love. Don't miss this chance to remember that day and be thankful for this one.

Sorry if this is out of place. I know it is not about photography.