I wrote this ten years ago today, after the 9/11 attacks. I was 15 and in the 10th grade, and I haven't edited it at all. It is a little less polished than I normally would post, but I wanted to keep the integrity of what I was feeling in the immediate aftermath. I thought this was a good time to share it. May we remember the fallen, honor the heroes and never forget.
"Ever since kindergarten we’ve been told of our country’s greatness. The United States is unstoppable, unbreakable, and unbeatable. No one can penetrate our defenses and get to our hearts, kill our civilians. We are too great to have war declared on us. We are the best. Since I was six year old, I believed that. I was a little girl and America was my hero. But September 11, 2001, changed all that. America became susceptible to the whims of cowardly terrorists.
When I first heard the news I was with my mom. I asked her who would do this to our great, wonderful, hero of a country. She looked at me and I saw something in her eyes not usually there. I don’t know what it was, maybe fear, or the realization that her little girl was scared and she couldn’t do anything about it. She looked away from me without an answer and I knew that this was going to be much worse than I had originally thought.
Circumstances continued to worsen and I couldn’t believe my country was being attacked. It couldn’t be happening. But it was, and we couldn’t fight back because we didn’t know who to fight with. When I saw my dad he had a new look in his eyes too. Unlike my mom though, his eyes were easy to read. He showed anger and frustration. Upon being asked the same question I asked my mom, I received a very different answer.
“I don’t know who did this but they won’t get away with it, and they will go down,” he said. He showed no regret for not knowing what to tell me. Only anger that he had to, and frustration that his little girl might be put through a war.
As I watched the news, I was heartbroken. I thought about all the little girls out there asking their Mommy and Daddy what was happening and why. It was then that I realized I still was that little girl. More than ever I needed my mommy to tell me everything would be all right. But I began thinking of my American Dream. The little girl’s dream I thought would last forever. That dream had been replaced with heartbreak, destruction, and terror. I couldn’t find my dream of America the Hero.
On September 11, 2001, my little girl was forced to grow up, never to come back. She is too haunted by the memory of catastrophe. I always thought that God would give me the strength to forgive anyone. But now, that dream is shattered too. I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive the people who took my little girl from me."
