Ten years ago, I was a child who didn’t know anything of the world. I went through my days sifting through the “normal” junctures of adolescence. My worries were school, boys, family and religion. Ten years ago, I was not who I am today, but the girl who I was stays with me like a shadow. When I think about where I was when the Two Towers fell, all I can remember were my feelings, my questions, the one thing that I still ask in everything I do today: why? Why did this happen?
Ten years ago, I was in Mrs. Berkheimer’s English class. I remember seeing the videos of smoke that permeated New York City on my grandmother’s television screen in the morning, and I came to school feeling so removed and scared, especially when I saw the chaos continue on Mrs. B’s screen. What I wondered was this: why was this hatred so great, why did it permeate the people who did this, how could they possibly have done this without regard? I’m still so removed and scared of that hatred. It’s a hatred that can permeate us as much as others. I hope with this 10-year anniversary, we also never forget asking why, so we can stop it from happening again.