On that day that none of us has forgotten or ever will forget, I was in the shower when the first plane hit.
When I got out my mother showed me, the “Today Show” footage, of the first tower on fire. I wrote it off as an accident, just like the B-29 that hit the Empire State Building in the Thirties. I left for school and when I showed up I found out that a second plane had hit and I knew that this wasn’t just some unfortunate plane crash but that it was an attack on the very city that we all know and love. The story kept unfolding with every friend who had just gotten away from that all important tool of information, the television. “There’s been another plane hijacked,” I heard and under my breath I said that it was heading for the White House. When I got to my quiet little French Class, all we could do was just watch the footage of that second plane slamming into the tower. Every time you could feel the collective cringing of the class. We were all together when the towers fell. A symbol of our demorcaracy, our strength, and our power. I was not only devastated by the destruction of a city that I loved but my heart sank lower than it could possibly be when I discovered that a plane had slammed into the Pentagon. This day is burned in my mind and the minds of all others. Its reverberations are still being felt today and probably will be felt even stronger in the future. The saddest thing of all of this was that it took such a horrible tragedy to bring a country together.