10 years on
I am not American, but I remember 9/11.
It was night time here in the Philippines, and I was watching tv with my grandfather. I was getting ready to sleep too since there was school the next day, but we ended up staying awake until around 1 or 2 am after learning about what happened in America.
I remember asking about my relatives, who lived and worked near New York and I think they called the following morning to say they were safe.
I remember how my class prayed for the victims and their families the next day before starting class.
I remember how tight security was EVERYWHERE, days and months after September 11.
I still remember how many people died and were injured for life, and all the stories I’ve heard, watched, read about the acts of heroism and kindness and love that came out of this.
I remember.