One Decade is Ten Years

I still remember that morning. I was in middle school. I had to go to the dentist before school. I  hated the dentist. But drama class was first so I was excited for that. Mum picked me up and on the way to the school, it was a very short drive, she told me what was happening because she didnt want me to hear it first at school. I thought the world was ending. I remember sitting in classes watching it on TV and then at lunch going to the little hill behind the field and sitting with my friends talking about it all. It seemed surreal. It was incomprehensible. The world felt unsafe. I was confused and scared. I didnt know what would happen next. I remember my mum carefully putting all the newspaper articles about it each day into a box by the armchair in the corner. She said it was something we would need to remember. And that the world would never be the same. I didnt know anyone in the towers or on the planes. I had never been to New York. All I knew how to do at that young age was to hold a bake sale.

Ten years have passed. Ten years and sometimes it feels like the remnants are most noticeable with American airport security. Things have changed. The war on terrorism seems never ending. People are less trustworthy. Fighting is more prevalent. But in ten years the Americans have in so many ways come together and bonded over a tragedy that is incomparable in todays first world countries. Yet it has opened my eyes. It is a tragedy still. So many lives were lost. However, prior to that day I never realized how  unfortunate people are that are born into war torn countries. I cant imagine living in constant fear listening to bombs overhead or walking through landmine infested areas on a regular basis. I cant imagine living under a communist regime or any form of dictatorship.

In a decade I have grown up. I have learned that the world can be a bad place. That bad things happen to good people for no reason. And that when bad things happen the good people fight back. That others choices hurt us but they dont have to ruin us. That rebuilding is hard but possible. And that you dont have to go through such things alone.

I want to go to New York and see the monument. I want to be able to picture the beauty and sanctity of it instead of just seeing the images of the planes  hitting the towers when I think of the tragedy. Some days come and go with nothing to write home about. And some days change the world. Those days can be hard. I like the quiet days better. Lest we not forget.