What I remember most. . .

When I think of September 11, 2001, so many things pop into my head.  I had a class full of children, who looked to me for answers.  That was the first time I’ve ever cried in front of my students.  I remember one of my students asking me if those were people falling or jumping from the Towers.  I remember a girl saying, “It’s falling – the whole building is falling.”  I remember t hem looking at me and wanting to know why people do things like that, and having NO clue how to answer them. 

I remember wanting to go home and be with my family.  We were all still slightly numb, we’d  just lost our mom in May. This was just one more thing in a really rotten year!  I wanted to see my family and just hold onto them and not let them leave.

I remember the look on the President’s face.  I’ll always respect him for his calmness in front of those children in front of him.  He didn’t jump up and run out, although I’m sure he wanted to. I’m sure that he, like all of us, wanted to talk to his family, especially Mrs. Bush, and make sure she was safe.  He seemed to age instantly. He seemed much older on September 12. 

The images are what I remember most.  The pictures of people running and screaming, with those confused, dazed looks on their faces.  I can’t imagine living in a country where that is normal.  I know that it happens all the time in some countries and I’m so grateful that it doesn’t happen to us regularly. It’s like one those awful monster movies where people are running as Godzilla stomps through the city.   The smoke and the dust. . . people covered with dust and dripping blood. I hate it!

But then, there’s this:

And this:

And this: