Thursday, September 11, 2003

Remember...
On September 11, 2001, two enormous buildings fell to their knees, and a city united in prayer.

Two years later, I woke up crying.

I ditched school today. Last year, my mother and I spent the day together. This year, she went to work. She said it was the least we could do, to go back to normal. But things have never been "normal" since.

This morning, I went walking in the park, on a dirt path deserted except for a few dogwalkers. I waited for the sirens. I waited for the bells. I listened, and I cried. I needed to know that someone remembered.

Then, once my tears had stopped, I collected a handful of acorns and came home. I am not sure why I did this, it just felt right. I immersed myself in television (specifically, a bunch of taped anime I had missed in Spain), and tried to prove that I could forget.

Yesterday, in my history class, we asked if we should even be learning history at all. And I thought of something. History is the only thing that sets people apart. It is the only true difference between one person and another. History caused this to happen two years ago. And history is why I hurt so much today.

A memory becomes history when one is able to forget it at will. But I don't want to forget, ever. I don't want anyone to be able to forget. This isn't to say I want people to cry every morning. I just want people to never forget the pain they felt. And the love it brought us.

It is not the pain I miss, but the love that came from it. Everyone stopped, shared, did what they could for other people. Now that this memory sinks into the mass of history, I fear that the love is vanishing too.

During the aftermath of the attacks, I cried often. But it wasn't really out of sadness. It was out of shock, fear, and unstability. This morning, two years later, I finally cried out of pain, sadness, hurt.

It scared me that I wasn't able to cry from sadness. I was afraid I was sheltered, or that this was truly meaningless to me. But now, my pain reassures me that I can indeed feel. My sadness makes me happy.

I think I can finally move forward now, to a place where I can remember the pain without it consuming me. I had blocked it, afraid to hurt. Now I embrace it, knowing that it is a sign that I am merely human. I am comforted by my crying.

I don't know if I'll be able to go to school next year on this day. I will try, that is certain. I think I will be able to. But the fact that I don't know reassures me of my humanity as well, and for the first time in two years, I think I'm finally at peace with myself, and the world, if only for a few moments.

This post was written by a New York City resident, who was at school in Midtown during the attacks. While I didn't know anyone in the towers personally, their memory still hurts. The images will haunt me forever. Why? I think it's because I'm still here. But now, I can smile through my tears.
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