Honest Reflections

On the morning September 11th, 2001, I got out of bed─ showered, dressed and went to the living room to put on my shoes and the intent to read the newspaper before school. As I sat on the loveseat, my mother was sitting on the couch, reading the paper: and noticing the content of front-page, I began to gripe about the lack of real news-coverage by our local paper.

My mom said something along the lines of, “there will be real news in the paper tomorrow,” while she turned on the TV─ I think to Good Morning America─ incidentally, just as the first tower fell.

Honestly, most of that day is a haze. Most teachers had their TV's tuned to some news station, I think some released their classes. A handful number of students had family in New York or Washington; one of my best friend's father worked in the Pentagon.

I felt sympathy; I was trying to be empathetic. At the time, I was also struggling to align (some sort of) theism with a rational world view. I felt guilt (and do to this day) about my gut reactions, my feelings and my thoughts about the attacks.