I got up to go to class that morning as usual, and didn’t turn the television on before I left. When I got on the shuttle, I heard the other two people on the bus talking in hushed tones about something — I knew it was serious, but didn’t know what. I had my radio and headphones in my backpack, and took it out and turned to the news station. To say that I was shocked and horrified seems trite. Students and professors alike were sitting on the floor in the hallways, grouped around televisions and radios, listening to the news. There was so much confusion and wrong information coming out at that time. I remember walking through those halls almost in a stupor, feeling numb.

When I got home late that afternoon, I called my dad and asked him if he’d been watching tv. He hadn’t and I told him to turn it on. I will always regret calling to tell him instead of going over there to be with him when he found out. He was so broken about it and we just sat on the phone, just listening to the news and crying, while he prayed, “oh God” over and and over.

I don’t think I’ll ever get up in the morning and leave for work or class or anything without turning on the news before I leave again.