A time to reflect

It's been five years since the lifestyles of every American has changed. Some changes have been for the better despite slight inconveniences, like airport security. Some changes have been for the worse and leave us torn between the pride of our history, respect of our armed forces, and the shame of our political system, like the war. Some of us still shudder when there is a low-flying airplane or when the jets are flying at odd hours at the local National Guard base. Some can't go in high buildings. Some have forgotten the moments and feelings of uncertainity, thinking that because there are thousands of men and women fighting and dying on foreign soil, that we are safe again. Maybe some never allowed the impact to sink into their souls, because doing so would make that individual a victim - something we, every American, was, on that Tuesday morning five years ago.

I woke up to a beautiful, sunny morning dreadfully awaiting a dentist appointment; I went to bed afraid to close my eyes. I woke up excited because I only had eleven more months before I turned 21; I went to bed praying that I actually see that birthday. I kept the TV on for days, slept for brief periods of time to Peter Jennings' voice. If anything else happened, I thought, I owed it to the people who died to know about it immediately. Every eleventh was a chip off my shoulders, until that last month. August 11 came and went and I turned 21. It took ages until it was September 11. Then it all hit.

I didn't cry much when it happened. I was confused and scared. I didn't know what the impact would be of such a horrific event happening on American soil. I became empathetic to those who lived through events of great surprise and horror: Pearl Harbor, Normandy, the Blitzkrieg, the bombing of London, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, etc. 9-11 was a wake-up call to get my priorities in order. In 2001, I was working at dead-end job I hated. In 2002, I found myself back at school, my second semester on the road to finishing my degree after a 1.5 year hiatus. Columbine took me away from wanting to be a teacher once and 9-11 drove me back to it. (As I got further along in the program, I realized it wasn't for me afterall because I disagree with too many of the politics of it all, but that doesn't really matter.) The morning of the first anniversary, I devotely watched CNN. I cried. I finally let myself feel the agony. The final bricks were lifted off my shoulders. Then I went to school and didn't allow the terrorists to win. Again. I woke up crying and sad. I went to bed with a smile on my face and excited. That night I got a phone call from the Joe and Sept 11 is my hire date and when my career as an usher began. It was a bad day turned good. There is always a happy ending.

I'm smarter than I was then. I'm more empathetic and keen on my surroundings. I don't use the 't' word to describe feelings on that day because then I think they won; they didn't. I still think it will happen again. Sometimes, I think about it when I'm in the Joe - so close to the Ambassador Bridge and with so many people - but the hope and thought Jack Bauer will come save me pulls me through. With a history degree I realize that we cannot yet analyze September 11 in its full extent because we are still too close to it and coping with the aftermath. It will be years until we realize the impact, and one day today won't be so somber and it will be a passing news clip like December 7 is now. Is that when we as a nation will be healed?

It's a day to reflect, to remember. Don't forget and don't take your freedoms for granted. People kill for it.