For most of of my peers, September 11, 2001 was a day of confusion. We watched classmates leave school without a doctor's note and grown men cry. After school our mothers did not ask us to review our spelling words or force us to eat all of our broccoli at dinner. In one morning the world was turned upside down and as a fifth grader, all I knew was that something terribly sad had happened that no one could make sense of. As more information was uncovered, I remember wondering why some bad men would want to cause so many tears to fall.
Last night I sat in the outdoor amphitheater at UVA surrounded by my peers, all of us between the ages of 8 and 11 on that September morning. We all sat still, holding candles in a glowing arc while we listened to a man who had been on the 104th floor of the South tower share his story. He recounted the horrific realization that a plane had flown into the North tower and then deciding with a group of his friends to leave the building. I sat in solemn silence listening to him tell his story, every detail morphing into the difference between life and death: They had decided against the elevators and instead chosen the stairs. At the 75th floor an announcement told them to remain inside the building but they continued their descent. Finally, they made it out.
10 years later, I have matured from a fifth grader to a third year college student and I still can't make sense of what happened that day. I still can't understand how someone could have so much hatred and do something so heinous. This is a question that I will never be able to answer but now my focus has shifted. Rather than ask the question why of the perpetrators I find myself asking how to the strength of the heroes and survivors. About 10 floors to the bottom, the speaker relived watching a swarm of men charge up the stairs past him; heroes fighting the current of fear pushing in the opposite direction. Running towards danger, towards uncertainty and for many towards death, these brave servicemen rushed in to help those trapped inside.
Though 10 more years will pass and I will still not be able to make sense of what happened that day I will have the image of men rushing into the crumbling towers as a symbol of inconceivable courage. In them we see the full embodiment of selflessness, hope and strength unknown. Because of them we can thank God everyday for this country we are blessed to call home.
