I don’t have much of a memory of that day. Bits. Pieces. I remember Mom wasn’t home and Dad was at work. Grandma was watching the news while I sat at her feet playing with my bricks. I didn’t understand why she was crying. I remember that after that, I wasn’t allowed to watch TV for the rest of the week. I could only watch my VHS tapes of Thomas The Tank Engine and VeggieTales. I remember my dad coming home quickly to check on me and to call my mom. I know now that my mom was in Arizona and was supposed to fly back that day. I also found out later in life that a colleague of hers drove her back to North Dakota, because all of the planes had been shut down before her flight. Those are my only memories. When I was 13, we learned about in class, my teacher demanding none of us had an recollection of that day. “We were too young.” While we may have been to young to comprehend what was going on, we weren’t too young to understand what was going on.
As the years go by, I start to comprehend the severity of that day. I just grew up in the new world order, I didn’t truly know any other way of life. It took me 15 year to fully comprehend that awful day. What it was. What implications it had. The loss of life. Those were families. Fathers. Mothers. Brothers. Sisters. Gone.
But we did not roll over. We did not give up. We did not go quietly into the night. We rebuilt. We mourned. We survived. And we came back. We grew stronger. We became one nation under God again. We became a patriotic force against terrorism. We woke up too late to the acts of terrorism that were rising, but we acted swiftly. We attacked. We avenged. We won. So while the loss of lives is heartbreaking. No. Devastating. We can take comfort in God and in the fact that after all of that death and destruction, we rose from the ashes a stronger, unified nation. A nation who won. A nation who wins. A nation who will not go quietly into the night, but will put up a fight. We became the United States of America once again.