Rookie Rise Blog

It was the frist semester of the school year, September 11th 2001. I woke up to the sound of my alarm. I walked into our front room and my mom was standing, facing the TV. I asked what was going on. She turned to me and said that two planes flew into the world trade centers. I couldn't help but stare at the television screen, as I watched two huge buildings burn and smoke profusely. I never expected to see what happened next. A building that once stood high above New York, came crumbling to the ground. I held my breath, as I tried to convince myself that everyone made it out safely. Shortly after, the second building sadly sank to New Yorks ground floor. I knew that this was bad, really bad. Shock, sadness and confusion all went through my body.

I arrived to school and entered into my french class. People were chatting softly about what had just happened. My teacher stood in front of us with a beat red face, holding back tears. She told us that life isn't supposed to be like this. She told us to hug our families and realize who's around you. Our text books never opened that day. Instead every classroom had a TV on, watching and listening as details emerged.

Every year I relive that day, just as I will today. The 13th anniversity. I think about the ones who lost their lives, the heros who went in and never made it out. I can't help but think about the grandfathers, grandmothers, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters that would not make it home. My heart goes out to everyone affected by this heartless act. We will never forget this day in history. R.I.P.