I Remember

I remember everything about the moment that I saw this happening on my television.

We were living in the Linden Colonial Apartments. 

I was the assistant apartment manager.

I had gone into my apartment, put a sign on the door that I would be away for a little bit, and nursed my newborn baby, Braxton.

I was sitting on a green couch, nursing my baby.

The TV was on.

Two year old Jackson was napping on the couch next to me.

Suddenly, these were the images that we all saw.

Planes purposely going into occupied buildings.

Buildings that all Americans were familiar with.

We saw people, covered in matter, running for their lives.

Screaming.

Panicked.

Running. Just running.

We soon saw first responders, risking their lives to save lives.

We saw bodies falling from the highest of floors.

We saw smoke. We saw fire.

We saw devastation.

We saw death. We saw terror.

I remember the distinct feeling of having this be my first real experience with terror.

Of course I had always read about terror. History classes were full of text books that described terror. But those stories were in the past. 

Those stories, although super sad and awful, were stories to me. Stories of things in the past, who affected people I didn't know personally. Stories.

Suddenly, I was witnessing, first hand, terror. Death. Evil. Hate. 

I was traumatized.

We all were.

17 years later, we still remember.

I hope we always do.