Updated: Sep. 11, 2015
Originally Published: Sep. 11, 2015
It was just after 10:00 a.m. when I exited my Music Theory placement exam at the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music. Feeling mentally drained, I made my way to the main office to resolve some scheduling issues. Upon arrival, I noticed a group of staff members huddled behind the counter, intently watching the television. Unable to see what was happening, I thought to myself, How unprofessional to watch the news instead of working.
I raised my voice slightly, asking if someone could assist me. A young woman turned to me, her expression blank, and said, “The World Trade Center has collapsed.”
“Are you talking about the stock market?” I asked, unable to comprehend that she meant the actual building had fallen. Structures like that don’t just “collapse.”
“No, the building is gone. It’s… gone.”
I struggled to visualize such a massive structure crumbling. Surely, people must have evacuated in time—there had to be some warning, right? Was there an earthquake?
Suddenly, the room erupted with screams and gasps. Someone was sobbing. I didn’t realize until later that this was the moment the second tower fell.
My heart raced, and a heavy silence descended upon the room, filled with a thick, overwhelming dread. I heard the reporter utter the word “terrorist,” and my throat tightened with the urge to cry, forcing myself to hold back tears. I stepped out of the room, the word “terrorist” echoing in my mind.
I didn’t truly grasp the gravity of the situation until after lunch. I had no television, so I waited for my roommate, Alex, to return and unlock his room, the only one in our shared eight-bedroom house equipped with a TV. I was the sole American citizen among my seven international roommates.
Watching the news unfold on that small screen felt surreal. I was an outsider, witnessing the horrors of my fellow Americans jumping from those skyscrapers and the planes crashing into the buildings, replaying over and over in graphic detail. One of my roommates remarked, “I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened in America.” I snapped at her to be quiet. I sat too close to the screen, tears streaming down my face as I trembled. My roommates respectfully left me alone.
Though I had never considered myself particularly patriotic, in that moment, I understood the essence of national unity. My roommates, like me, were shocked and unsure how to process such an incomprehensible tragedy. Yet, that day, more than any other, I felt profoundly American. I connected with the victims on the planes, those trapped inside the buildings, the first responders, and the frightened individuals fleeing through the streets. I shared in the anguish of loved ones on phone calls, trying to say their goodbyes in those fleeting moments before silence. I will always remember that sense of solidarity born from shared grief.
Today, on this anniversary of 9/11, let us reflect on where we were, what we witnessed, and how we felt in those initial moments of disbelief. Share your story, as it is a necessary part of this collective memory. Pass your experiences to future generations so they too can feel the weight of this loss with us. After all, we made a promise, didn’t we?
Never forget.
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In summary, the aftermath of 9/11 left a profound impact on the American psyche, reminding us of the importance of unity in times of crisis. As we remember this day, let us honor the memories of those lost and continue to share our experiences, ensuring that future generations understand the significance of that moment.
Keyphrase: Commitment to Remembering 9/11
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