My Opera9/11
Sunday, September 11, 2011 6:36:52 PM
As a matter of personal opinion, I don't like to dwell on 9.11, but every year it comes up. I just read this blogpost, after watching some of that memorial service on NBC this morning at my friend's house, and I can't not talk about it.
But why is the tenth anniversary different than, say, the 11th, or the 8th anniversary? I know our society is based on the number 0, but I still feel that this anniversary, the 10th, is just an arbitrary number. This tribute today could've been done last year, or the year before that. It, to me, offers only a symbol, but symbols should never be enough.
I am, ironically enough, lucky. I was 7 on that day. I had probably seen the skyline with both towers, but I don't remember it. I don't remember a lot of the past, but there are several things I remember about the Tuesday. I was confused because grandpa took me home early, and he said it was because planes had hit something and mom wanted us home. (us=my twin brother and me.) Then, that statement meant nothing to me. I was upset because he came to pick me up at snack time and I had actually remembered to bring a snack with me (I learned to be independent at a young age; my mom had been seriously injured in a car accident and so we learned to care for ourselves). I remember being in the car-I couldn't describe the car to you-and looking up at the blue sky.
Today, the sky is scattered with white clouds. I told myself I wouldn't cry. Today, I still don't know what the function of the WTC was.
Last night, I had an amazing night. I met some really awesome people, I spent the night with a friend with whom I haven't spent a lot of time recently. We had gone into the city, and I think both our parents (one of which was with us) were both really worried.
So many lives were gone, lost in a day. Why? Lives are lost every day, whether it be through natural causes or murder. But on that day, more lives were suddenly ended than ever needs to be. Why? I don't get it.
Every name we read-whether it be in a textbook or a novel-as a story to go with the name. It's something I don't think about a lot but I'm thinking of it now. A family hurts with the loss of a member it raised. What about the babies?
Just because those lives were lost didn't stop the babies from being born that day. They're 10 now. What does that mean to you? I know this kid who never celebrates his birthday. He turns 10 today. When I turned 10, we had a trip to the aquarium and then spent the night in NYC after watching "Aida" on Broadway.
But it's not just those kids. What about the kids whose dads were first responders, or were firefighters who got to the scene later and still died? On the NBC special thing that I watched, this kid who is like 2 years younger than me said of his late father, "I wish I had gotten to know you better."
You can't change the past. You live long enough, you'll stop wishing you could. We can't turn back time, and I don't think I'd want to. 9/11 has impacted so many people. I live an hour's worth of a train ride from the city. No one I knew died. And maybe if there was, maybe if my uncle had died, I would be crying. But you can't live life while mourning. I never got to know my grandmother, never got to know my father, but there's always tomorrow and sometimes you just have to stop grieving so you can carry on.
But why is the tenth anniversary different than, say, the 11th, or the 8th anniversary? I know our society is based on the number 0, but I still feel that this anniversary, the 10th, is just an arbitrary number. This tribute today could've been done last year, or the year before that. It, to me, offers only a symbol, but symbols should never be enough.
I am, ironically enough, lucky. I was 7 on that day. I had probably seen the skyline with both towers, but I don't remember it. I don't remember a lot of the past, but there are several things I remember about the Tuesday. I was confused because grandpa took me home early, and he said it was because planes had hit something and mom wanted us home. (us=my twin brother and me.) Then, that statement meant nothing to me. I was upset because he came to pick me up at snack time and I had actually remembered to bring a snack with me (I learned to be independent at a young age; my mom had been seriously injured in a car accident and so we learned to care for ourselves). I remember being in the car-I couldn't describe the car to you-and looking up at the blue sky.
Today, the sky is scattered with white clouds. I told myself I wouldn't cry. Today, I still don't know what the function of the WTC was.
Last night, I had an amazing night. I met some really awesome people, I spent the night with a friend with whom I haven't spent a lot of time recently. We had gone into the city, and I think both our parents (one of which was with us) were both really worried.
So many lives were gone, lost in a day. Why? Lives are lost every day, whether it be through natural causes or murder. But on that day, more lives were suddenly ended than ever needs to be. Why? I don't get it.
Every name we read-whether it be in a textbook or a novel-as a story to go with the name. It's something I don't think about a lot but I'm thinking of it now. A family hurts with the loss of a member it raised. What about the babies?
Just because those lives were lost didn't stop the babies from being born that day. They're 10 now. What does that mean to you? I know this kid who never celebrates his birthday. He turns 10 today. When I turned 10, we had a trip to the aquarium and then spent the night in NYC after watching "Aida" on Broadway.
But it's not just those kids. What about the kids whose dads were first responders, or were firefighters who got to the scene later and still died? On the NBC special thing that I watched, this kid who is like 2 years younger than me said of his late father, "I wish I had gotten to know you better."
You can't change the past. You live long enough, you'll stop wishing you could. We can't turn back time, and I don't think I'd want to. 9/11 has impacted so many people. I live an hour's worth of a train ride from the city. No one I knew died. And maybe if there was, maybe if my uncle had died, I would be crying. But you can't live life while mourning. I never got to know my grandmother, never got to know my father, but there's always tomorrow and sometimes you just have to stop grieving so you can carry on.
