"I felt a great disturbance... as if millions of vices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened." - Obi-Wan Kenobi
September 11th.
Not a single American is oblivious to that date whether they were alive for it or not.
It's a day that now creates a wave of blind patriotism on social media, a flood of pictures of flags and firefighters and the lights that shine where those towers stood.
I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be patriotic or to remember those who died there. I've never felt particularly patriotic myself, so even to do it for a day seems dishonest. Don't get me wrong - America is my home, and I don't think living anywhere else would compare. But I'm not a flag-flying apple-pie-baking American woman.
But this day isn't about me.
There is one specific person that I think of when this day rolls around. Well, three people, but two of them have birthdays today.
I remember this day well. Not in vivid detail, but well enough. Memory is a tricky thing. I was sitting in history class, bored as usual, when another teacher came in and motioned my teacher over. It was clearly something urgent, but to what degree we had no idea. He walked back to the front of the room and grabbed a radio to try and tune in the news. "Something's happened," was all he said.
Eventually they wheeled a TV in and a few other teachers gathered to watch the events unfold. We saw the plane hit the second tower. I'll never forget that sound... then the towers collapsed, a plane hit the Pentagon, a plane went down in PA... it was all too close to home. I don't remember the order and I don't watch specials or read about it because I want it to stay fuzzy. That day doesn't need to be clearer.
It was horrifying but didn't really hit home until I got to my psychology/sociology class. I can't remember which it was, but I had the same teacher for both. He was frantically trying to get in touch with people - five of his nieces and nephews worked in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I don't remember how it was divided, or even who made it home that day. I do know he lost a niece. She was in one of the towers on a floor above where the plane hit, I believe. She never made it out.
It's on this day that I think of that teacher and his family, and the families of all the people that were lost that day, people who went to work thinking of their to-do lists, their plans for the coming weekend. Thousands of voices were silenced. The skies were silent that night. My mom and I went out and stared at the plane-free sky, just listening to nothing. If I hadn't been paying attention, I may not have noticed. But I did. And it was eerie.
