Seven years ago today, I was teaching fourth grade at Trinity School. Magister Meyer had just come in to teach Latin and I was free for a half hour. I headed down to the office to see if there was fresh coffee. Instead, I found the receptionists crowded around a radio. When I asked what was going on, I was told that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.
Before September 11, 2001, I was not aware of The World Trade Center or the Twin Towers. Surprising, because my dad grew up in New York. Until that day, however, they were not a working part of my NYC vocabulary. Now, they will never not be.
Trinity's administration decided not to tell the elementary age kids about the planes flying into the Twin Towers. So I spent the rest of the day peeking at what news I could find online and putting on a happy face for my kids. When I left work and arrived at home, I parked myself in front of the TV, devouring any piece of information that was given. Like the rest of us, I'm sure I watched too much video of the Towers. I vividly remembering hitting my saturation point. I could not take one more image of people fleeing or buildings falling.
There were many conversations with my 9 and 10 year old students. Many prayers spoken, whispered and simply thought. Memorial services held. Tears shed, too many to count.
Seven years later, it's just as tragic, just as gutwrenching. Someone turned on the TV in our waiting room today. I watched as family members called out the names of their loved ones. I held back tears as our presidential candidates set aside their campaigns to honor the men and women lost, grateful for their presence at the memorial site. Once again, I prayed for families I will never know.
Where were you seven years ago today?