I don't have a story about 9/11 that's intriguing to read. I was just a 25 year old girl, starting my third year of law school, living with my boyfriend in a tiny condo in St. Louis.
I slept in that day since my first class didn't start until the afternoon. I got up, got ready, and got in my car all without turning on the TV. Scott was at work - he'd left super early that morning, way before anything happened.
As I was driving to school, I turned on the radio. It was Howard Stern. I could tell something had happened in New York to the twin towers, but I couldn't pinpoint the details as Howard and crew had moved on to conjecture and theorizing at that point. I switched channels, but only found music.
I parked at the law school and went inside. People swarmed around televisions randomly set up in the common area. It was very quiet. On the white board was written "Classes Canceled." Classes never got canceled. I couldn't get close enough to the TVs to see what was happening.
I was too afraid to ask anybody.
So I drove home. Silently, this time. Now that I knew it was bad - really bad - I didn't want to know yet.
I turned on the TV when I walked inside.
And that's when I knew.
My cousin posted this picture on Facebook a long time ago of my brothers, my cousins and I on a trip to NY ages ago. I'm the windblown kid in the back, second from the left. I remember having this picture taken. I remember it was windy (clearly). And cold. And I remember being absolutely inspired by the New York City skyline. Even at such a young age I could feel the endless opportunities and excitement and limitless possibilities it evoked.
How it could spark such hatred in a fellow human being is something I will never understand.