Fifteen years ago, I was twelve and in 7th grade. On the way to art class, a friend stopped me and said, “A plane has flown into the Pentagon.” Once to art, our teacher, who was usually full of jokes and smiles, was in tears and pulled a television to the front of the classroom. For the rest of the day, in every class and at home, all I saw across any screens were planes flying into skyscrapers and smoke and debris covering New York. Every adult I knew was crying. I didn’t fully understand what had taken place, but I knew that tragedy had hit our country.
On 9/11, our county had a choice to either be overcome in fear or to rise together as one. Even at just twelve years old, I was truly proud to be an American and felt patriotism for the first time that day. Our country banded together, and I saw people of all backgrounds and race wave our flag high. On that day, lives were lost, voids are still felt today, but a nation who was mourning was made stronger.
9/11: Always remember, never forget.