Never Forget
Growing up, I was a full-time dreamer. Even in the midst of my "uncommon reality," for the longest, I had my head in the clouds, caught up in my own world--my own bubble. I think it is such an easy thing to do, simply living in the United States sometimes. Compared to some countries, we have this silent sense of security--maybe even feel invincible--that allows us to get wrapped up in our own lives, sort of careless, until a tragedy hits close to home, much like September 11, 2001.
My Granny bought a magazine at Gore's after the tragedy. I remember there being so many, and she told me to choose one. I had just turned seven, but she and my mom allowed me to skim through the magazine. I knew what had happened was a big deal, but it never registered with me till I was in the sixth grade and it had been four years since. The radio station played Enrique Inglesias' "Hero" with the 9/11 voices intermingled into the song. My mom was driving me to school, and I started crying in the backseat, my "dream world" crashing down. I had the extent of the tragedy that happened replaying in my mind all day during school; I could not concentrate. When I got back home, I went searching for the magazine, found it and sat down and read every single page. From there, there was no going back for me.
9/11 opened the door to my fascination with history. I am a sole believer in being aware of what has taken place in the past, not only so you can be educated or so the chances of history repeating itself is lowered, but it serves as a humbling reminder to me.
That day, supposed to be just a regular day for those deceased, their families, survivors and witnesses, turned into one of horror that they never saw coming. Going day to day, not amidst bombs being dropped on the daily in the United States, again, it is so easy to think "That will never happen to me," etc. No one believed what happened that day was going to happen. But it is a reminder that no one, country, etc. is untouchable.
While I do not live in fear, because that is not living at all, I like being aware. I like to say that, now, I walk the fine line between being a dreamer and a realist.
Truths like 9/11 grounds me and reminds me to never take life for granted.
What happened was a tragedy. It should never be forgotten.
More love and empathy is needed.
My Granny bought a magazine at Gore's after the tragedy. I remember there being so many, and she told me to choose one. I had just turned seven, but she and my mom allowed me to skim through the magazine. I knew what had happened was a big deal, but it never registered with me till I was in the sixth grade and it had been four years since. The radio station played Enrique Inglesias' "Hero" with the 9/11 voices intermingled into the song. My mom was driving me to school, and I started crying in the backseat, my "dream world" crashing down. I had the extent of the tragedy that happened replaying in my mind all day during school; I could not concentrate. When I got back home, I went searching for the magazine, found it and sat down and read every single page. From there, there was no going back for me.
9/11 opened the door to my fascination with history. I am a sole believer in being aware of what has taken place in the past, not only so you can be educated or so the chances of history repeating itself is lowered, but it serves as a humbling reminder to me.
That day, supposed to be just a regular day for those deceased, their families, survivors and witnesses, turned into one of horror that they never saw coming. Going day to day, not amidst bombs being dropped on the daily in the United States, again, it is so easy to think "That will never happen to me," etc. No one believed what happened that day was going to happen. But it is a reminder that no one, country, etc. is untouchable.
While I do not live in fear, because that is not living at all, I like being aware. I like to say that, now, I walk the fine line between being a dreamer and a realist.
Truths like 9/11 grounds me and reminds me to never take life for granted.
What happened was a tragedy. It should never be forgotten.
More love and empathy is needed.
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