where were you?

I was still asleep, since NYC was three hours away.  I first remember how important of an even this must have been if my mom was waking me up before I was supposed to get ready for school.  Our T.V. was on; also not a usual occurance on school day mornings.  My mom ushered me into my little brother's room.  He was 8 at the time, making me 11.  Still groggy and confused, I tried to pay attention to my mom who explained what was happening.  That's present progressive "-ing", meaning it was still going on.  There was still mayhem in some part of the world.  My mom gently relayed to us that some bad guys had attacked the United States in New York City.  She then asked if we wanted to stay at home. If we were too scared or uncomfortable to go to school.  On the way out, I caught a glimpse of the T.V.  The live images of the planes crashing into the buildings has never left me.  I caught the footage of the second plane just as I went out the door.  I didn't fully understand it, but there were people my age who were worried about things that only people older than us worry about.  I was 11 and I knew that something bigger than us was going on.
As I got older, I was able to more fully comprehend what damage had been done.  When you're 11, you don't know about death counts or terrorism.  Just about the sadness in the faces of the fleeing.  When I was 17, my family took a trip to NYC.  Six years later, and Ground Zero was still at ground zero.  The museum, the memorials, the ever-present notes and fresh flowers proved that you don't forget the things that are bigger than us.  The pain subsides, the clean-up is finished, but the fear lingers.  At the end of the museum, there was a section where you could write notes to the families of the victims.  I don't remember what I said, but I mentioned this topic of remembering.  I remember being scared.  I remember for the first time hearing all of the details.  I remember seeing.  I remember being shocked at the amount of hurt that can be caused because of that bigger thing, that bigger "cause".  I also mostly remember being grateful.  Grateful that I don't have to walk down the street and worry about a car bomber.  Grateful that I saw that, no matter how much evil there is in the world, good always counter-acts it.  People will step up to do what they need to to survive and to help others to survive, even if the fear of the bigger things hang over their heads.  Americans have always run towards the fear if it meant defending the good. 
Tonight, I was at a friend's apartment with a group, watching a movie about good vs. evil ("Megamind").  A line in the movie says, "You should never judge a book by its cover. You should only judge people on their actions."  In the case of 9/11, not many words were said, but a whole lot of action did the trick.  When the movie finished, we were walking out and a bunch of people exclaimed: "Hey! I just got a text about Osama bin Laden being killed!"  I felt the fear, again. Fear for retaliation and what the next step will be.  I felt the gratitude, again.  Gratitude for the brave intelligence officers who have run towards the fear for the past 10 years trying to acheive justice for what was done.  But I also felt relief.  Relief that justice was served and hearts  of the victims' families could be put to rest.  Relief to know that America is still defending our freedom against terrorism.  It moved me so much, that I had to stop writing a paper to write a blog post.  Because, like four years ago, I remembered where I was when 9/11 started and I didn't want to forget where I was when it finished.

{memorial @ ground zero}

{antenna from one of the towers and front pages to newspapers from across the world dated 9/11/01--Newseum, WA DC}