I am one of the few children who were barely old enough to remember 9/11. Most that were even one year younger than me were too young to remember that day. Whether that moment is seared into our memory or not, it changed all of our lives. From the five-year-old who didn’t understand to the young adult who is one of the last to remember, this is my story.
***
I am five. I just ate breakfast and now I’m playing in the living room with my brother. Mommy is in her bedroom nursing my new baby brother who was only born a month ago. She is sick, so she’s watching the images of Matt Lauer interviewing his guest on the Today Show flicker across her screen as we entertain ourselves in the living room. All is well.
Mommy rushes out into the kitchen and grabs the phone. She is not calm. She calls Daddy and exclaims, “Did you hear what happened?” I look up at Mommy and she looks worried. She asks Daddy a lot of questions. As she hurries back into her bedroom, I shuffle after her. Mommy says something about a plane crash, and as I walk into the room my eyes glimpse a video of a smoking building on the T.V. The news people are talking about the building and asking what happened to the plane.
I have never lived in a big city, so most of the tall buildings I’ve seen are buildings from the movies. But from the way Mommy is acting, I know this building is real. As I watch the news people show the smoking building from different angles, I see another plane crash into the second tall building. Mommy blurts out, “Oh my gosh, another one came.” The news people start yelling. They say this was on purpose. They say the words “terrorist attack.” I don’t know what that means, but I am afraid because Mommy is afraid. Something is wrong. Something about this day is different. Mommy holds my little brother tighter and picks up the phone to call her sister.
“What kind of a world have I brought this baby into?”
***
It is only months later. Sometimes Daddy goes on trips for his work. Tonight, Daddy is packing his suitcase to go on another trip. This time seems different. He and mommy are in the living room talking in hushed tones and they sound serious. Mommy doesn’t want Daddy to ride the plane. Daddy can’t bring all the things in his suitcase that he used to. Now he has to pack different things and leave some things home. I am scared for daddy to leave. I am sad he has to go on a plane. Mommy doesn’t want to say goodbye.
***
I am twelve. It is the beginning of September, only seven years since the twin towers collapsed. This day is special because this is the day when my dreams of going to Disney World were coming true. Everything seemed magical. We had to wake up early because Daddy said we needed time to go through security. I don’t know what that means because this is the first time I’ve ever been on an airplane.
When we got to the airport, we had to wait in lots of lines. The airport people made us put all our bags on conveyor belts and they scanned them to make sure we weren’t bad guys. We all had to take our shoes off and then put them back on, which took forever because my brothers didn’t know how to tie their shoes yet.
Once we were on the plane, Mommy and Daddy tried to get us to sit near each other, but it was hard because there were so many strangers already sitting down. I laughed a lot when the plane took off because it made my tummy tickle like when I went really high on the swings. I loved looking out the window at all the houses getting smaller and smaller until all I saw were clouds. I wasn’t scared to be on the airplane because I knew Daddy would take care of us. We prayed that God would keep us safe.
***
I am eighteen. Today I rode on an airplane all by myself. This always makes me nervous. I keep an eye on the passengers around me and wonder what I would do if they had a bomb. The man next to me seems nice, but sometimes my imagination gets a little too wild. I drift off to sleep praying that God will protect me.
When I wake up, I check my watch. That’s funny…It’s almost an hour past when we were supposed to land. I start to panic. The crew keeps talking to each other and they seem suspicious. What if they are taking us captive? What if they’re taking over the plane? What if they took the plane off course and now we’re their prisoners? I start to panic. What do I do? Will I have to sacrifice my life?
The captain comes on the overhead speaker, “We are approaching San Jose and should be landing shortly. Please be seated with your seatbelts fastened, your trays up, and your seats in an upright position. Thank you for flying United.”
Oh. I forgot about the time difference. The crew members are just crew members.
***
I am twenty-two. Today, we drove to New York for our friend’s wedding. I’ve never been to New York before. We sit quietly as we watch the bridal party walk down the aisle. When Natalie comes through the door with her dad, we all stand. Her dress is beautiful and she is radiant. The tears well up in my eyes. I am so happy. I can’t believe we’ve both made it through college and now she is getting married. How time flies!
When the father-daughter dance starts, she clings to her dad as they sway to the music. I feel the tears well up in my eyes again. I think I’m the only one crying. I wonder what she felt on that day seventeen years ago when she found out her pilot father was safe. I wonder if she clung to him the same way she did now.
After the wedding, my friends and I drive to New York City. We are unashamed tourists with wide eyes and a boisterous passion for the city we’d only seen in movies. We walked for seven hours through the city I first heard of in 2001. By the time we make it to the 9/11 memorial, it is closed. We walk as close as the roped off sections will let us go to the place where the buildings once stood.
My friends observe for a while and then begin chatting about the events of the day. But I stay glued to the rope separating me from the memorial, my eyes locked on the only section of sky that didn’t hold a skyscraper. Buildings surround me at every side, but this spot holds nothing. It is void of anything. There is a hole in the sky where the twin towers once stood. I can’t pull myself away.
As I stare at the emptiness in the night sky, an airplane flies overhead. I feel my heart flicker with fear. For the third time today, my eyes well up with unexpected tears. I wonder how long after that day the people of this city still flinched at the sound of an airplane overhead. I wonder how many mothers gathered their children to their sides as they walked past the place where these buildings once stood. I wonder how many screaming people once stood where my feet were now planted.
All I can feel is loss.
***
Some things change everything.
Some voids cannot be filled.
I am the last generation to remember 9/11.
I grew up in a reality that was forever changed by what took place that day.
That day we were forever shaped by a fear that we should never have had to feel. We were introduced to a world that we never wanted to believe could exist. We faced a loss that will forever change how we say goodbye. No longer did we fear that the stranger sitting next to us could take our money. Now there was so much more at stake – now we feared they could take our life.
As we remember that day seventeen years ago where we lost more than we ever knew we could lose, I hope we can do more than never forget. I hope we can actively remember. I hope we can communally grieve. I hope when we look up to the sky and think about what once filled the void, we can join together to weep over the depth of human depravity that our eyes were opened to that day.
A depth that God himself weeps over and gave everything to rectify.
