Now That I'm Older: An Essay
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Ten years ago I was an innocent 11-year old with no knowledge of terrorists or Osama Bin Laden or even the World Trade Center buildings. And today, “Bin Laden” is a household name. And my childhood friends are marching off to fight the War on Terror in Afghanistan/Iraq/Pakistan. The New York City skyline is missing teeth and an entire genre of literature and film has spawned from the events of that dark day.
What’s so remarkable about this day is the entire nation watched it unfold together on live television. Before our very eyes, we saw the second plane hit, the bloom of dust and debris as the South Tower collapsed. We saw the anguish and fear on people’s faces as they watched the jet-fueled fires burn thousands of feet in the air, great torches in the sky. And our own faces mirrored theirs. It was surreal, wasn’t it? Like in a movie, hundreds of people fled down the narrow streets away from the enormous cloud of dirt and it’s chasing them, it’s alive, but somehow looks to be in slow motion which makes it even more terrifying. And it covers them as they hold their shirts over their noses, running amidst the cloud. They look like ghosts later, walking out of the darkness coated in
I watch the news broadcasts and documentaries now, as a 21-year old, and my heart yearns for them. And I think of the people, all the people, who were still in there. All the bodies, being crushed together between the desks and chairs and lamps and rugs. Picasso-esque. Cubist. Jumbled and twisted. A monument of time stopped. And then I think of their families and friends and husbands and wives and children. Everyone else who has to go on. All the people who will struggle to let go, who will be tortured forever by the images of the black fire and the smoldering rubble. I simply cannot imagine being so directly affected.
The magnitude of the disaster amplifies the stories of survival. There really is a such thing as God. I want to shake the hands of the heroes. The firefighters, the people who helped one another get to safety, the ones who stayed behind. It’s tragically inspiring and makes me feel all kinds of patriotic. And I will never forget.
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I am glad I was in my early twenties, and not a kid. I feel sorry for kids who grew up during this era. I feel this generation has lost a bit of innocence that people who were adults had previous to 9/11. It was a horrible event, and a reason why I believe we need more education, and more democracy worldwide.
Thank you.
Nice hub. You've written here what a lot of people are probably thinking. And interesting to see it through your two perspectives, aged 11 and aged 21. Voted up.
Yes, I shudder to think how I would have felt had I been 11 when this happened. I did, however, have an 11 year old son, a 8 year old daughter and another 7 year old son. Their mother and I spent a lot of time explaining to them what had happened, what it meant to them and that they were safe. Their teachers were also great when it came to this. I hope you had someone to help you cope during this time. It was horrific!
Monday's Child 8 months ago
Beautifully written. It was interesting to see the perspective from someone who was 11 years old at the time.