09/10/2026
I was sitting in science class with Nicky Bartlett - probably writing the initials of my crush on my hand in glitter gel pens when the teacher turned the TV on. We watched live as the second plane hit the second tower. We continued watching all day, in every class. One of my best friends was flying back from Vegas and we weren’t sure which day (Angela). Fear isn’t a strong enough word for how our friend group felt listening to the news explain the cross country flights were being used as weapons. We were so worried. Madison Middle School could have been empty, it was so quiet. The walk home the world was noticeably still. There was no music. No laughter. No background noise. There was only live news footage of people crying looking for loved ones. Of dust covered survivors being pulled from wreckage. The next time I walked home from school every house had an American Flag hanging. Every classroom. Every car window. Strangers hugged. We continued watching the news, I remember watching the estimated countdown for how long survivors could live without water. I remember watching that countdown and thinking it was how long we had left to hope.
A couple years later I opened an old shoebox of memories and found a camera I never developed. It was from my visit to NYC two years before this. & I found this photograph I snapped by sticking my arm through the barrier.
It hangs in my middle school classroom. Where I teach kids who weren’t alive when it fell, who are the same age I was as I watched it fall, and I remember. Every day.