(no subject)
People keep saying today, "Don't forget," "Never forget." But what I don't understand is - how could you? How could this day not be indelibly marked on your mind's calendar?
It was my third day of my freshman year of high school. How could I not remember taking a summer reading test, having my teacher called out of the room, having him come back in when the test was over and tell us that planes had crashed into the World Trade Center? How could I not remember the next period, when a boy said the towers had been bombed, that I corrected him, said it was planes, said it could still be an accident? And then, the classroom television on, watching the first tower collapse, live on NBC, and the reporter running for her life, and it couldn't be an accident.
How could I not remember eating lunch with people who weren't yet my friends, numbly munching french fries as the lunchroom TVs told us of attacks on the Pentagon and "near Pittsburgh"? And in the next class, how could I not remember that only a handful of us had cellphones, and I borrowed one to call home - and how could I not remember that somehow, for some reason, my dad wasn't at work, and answered the phone? And how could I forget that our teacher yelled at us for laughing at some stupid joke that a classmate told, yelled at us for not understanding the gravity of the situation, yelled at us for being fourteen and bewildered and terrified?
How could I not remember that all schools across the city let out at noon, after that class, and that I had, at best, only a vague idea of how to get home? And how could I not remember that my best friend and her mom were waiting for me at the corner by my school, because they'd heard schools were letting out early, and they knew I'd need somewhere to go?
Anyone of a certain age, anyone in a major city, not a one of us can forget. I don't know how we could.
It was my third day of my freshman year of high school. How could I not remember taking a summer reading test, having my teacher called out of the room, having him come back in when the test was over and tell us that planes had crashed into the World Trade Center? How could I not remember the next period, when a boy said the towers had been bombed, that I corrected him, said it was planes, said it could still be an accident? And then, the classroom television on, watching the first tower collapse, live on NBC, and the reporter running for her life, and it couldn't be an accident.
How could I not remember eating lunch with people who weren't yet my friends, numbly munching french fries as the lunchroom TVs told us of attacks on the Pentagon and "near Pittsburgh"? And in the next class, how could I not remember that only a handful of us had cellphones, and I borrowed one to call home - and how could I not remember that somehow, for some reason, my dad wasn't at work, and answered the phone? And how could I forget that our teacher yelled at us for laughing at some stupid joke that a classmate told, yelled at us for not understanding the gravity of the situation, yelled at us for being fourteen and bewildered and terrified?
How could I not remember that all schools across the city let out at noon, after that class, and that I had, at best, only a vague idea of how to get home? And how could I not remember that my best friend and her mom were waiting for me at the corner by my school, because they'd heard schools were letting out early, and they knew I'd need somewhere to go?
Anyone of a certain age, anyone in a major city, not a one of us can forget. I don't know how we could.