Tyler knocked on my door to pick me up for our Olympus Jr. High carpool. His dad, Kim, was waiting outside in his big silver SUV, honking at us. I opened the door to tell him I was coming, just had to grab my lunch, and Tyler told me that somebody had crashed a plane into the World Trade Centers. I didn't even know what they were, and didn't understand what that meant.
30 minutes later found us with our eyes riveted to the television screen in Señor Thomas's Spanish class, as we watched the second plane smash into the other tower. We watched church services and prayed as a nation. I was only 14, and my understanding of politics, nationality, and patriotism were still forming, but I felt a distinct sense of unity with my fellow Americans. I felt us growing closer. Then I watched the buildings fall to the ground and I remember marveling that they didn't tip over on top of the other buildings, but seemed to disintegrate and sink down into the rest of the city. We watched people throwing themselves from the upper floors on live television. These were scary things to watch, and I felt like I was growing up a lot, all at once.
Throughout the day I heard from friends whose family worked at the World Trade Centers, found out they were located on Manhattan Island; families hadn't heard from their children, and were worried sick. Some were safe, and some were killed. Lots of kids went home from school early.
In memory of those who died, let us live to make men free. God is marching on.
