So many people in my life remember where they were and/or what they were doing when they heard about the planes hitting the first World Trade Center tower.
I don’t remember, and sometimes that makes me feel like I’m somehow less than.
But I was only 8. I was in 3rd grade. I had no family in New York, or at the Pentagon. It had no direct impact on the safety of the people in my daily life.
Thousands of lives were lost.
People decided to stop for coffee, so they weren’t in the building when they usually would have been.
Parents stayed home because their child was sick.
Some slept through alarms and didn’t wake up until after the first plane hit.
Innocent people on planes that were hijacked lost their lives.
Flight attendants who should’ve been on the flight that hit the second tower weren’t because they’d worked an extra trip the day before.
Just because I was young and don’t have detailed memories of where I was when the news broke doesn’t mean I don’t know the gravity of that day and what it meant for us. A date that will live in infamy that showed us the brevity of life.
I know September 11th was a tragic day in our nation.
Kids lost parents.
Parents lost kids.
The military lost soldiers, sailors, marines, coast guardsmen, airmen.
Companies lost employees.
It changed a lot of things here in our country. And through the world.
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