The 11st anniversary of a tragedy I was too young to recall snuck up on me.
On a Tuesday.
It's worth breaking my schedule to post and say my say. Even if it's only a droplet in the ocean, one droplet is a tear, and a tear can make all the difference.
Thing is, I was too young to remember 9/11. Everything I know about what happened during 9/11/01 is second-hand from Mom.
According to her, she had to keep me from the television, and then hide the newspaper from me the next day. Back then, I was an avid reader for quite some time. If it wasn't for her, I would've been exposed to such an incident from an earlier age.
But who knew if I could've comprehended such an incident?
Still, the knowledge slipped into my mind somehow, at some point over the year, just like death. One day, 9/11 waved hello at me, settled down in my brain cells, and minded its own business, never attempting to haunt me, or show any particular malice.
It didn't have any reason to. I didn't lose anybody to 9/11. Nobody in my family is a firefighter, policeman, or a pilot, and nobody lived in New York when the Twin Towers were hit.
In short, there's no way I can imagine the experience's vividness--except through story.
To admit, I attempted to write a historical fiction on 9/11 back in elementary school, before my first novel attempt.
Heh. An historical fiction. It's a very loose use of the term, yet that what I thought of it as.
It was a simple story, of a girl whose father was in the towers, and her attempts to find out what happened to him.
Like most of my stories, it fell into disinterest, and forever is lost.
It's a shame.
If I even had it with me right now, would it even be safe to post an excerpt? What would be worse? The bad writing, or the very topic?
But in any case, this tiny scene, one that only I remember, shows how apathetic I was, and am, about 9/11.
It was an event I didn't put much thought to.
It was historical fiction.
Even though it was only about five years ago.
To me, it was history. Only history. Not history that resonated. Just a page of history that would slowly burn away.
Today, I have one goal.
While I'll be working on my contest entry on the computer, I'll try to channel the pain and shock and sense of a world shattered into my writing folder. I'll probably not write about 9/11. At least, not directly, but I want to try it out, and see if I can make justice of it.
Maybe out of the emotions will come a gift.
Maybe I can prove I'm not apathetic about 9/11, something I feel little about.
Since I don't remember 9/11, I can only give respect to the affected by the incident. Maybe I'll do that by reading first-hand accounts of what happened. What did it feel like having a force crash into the building you work with? What was the chaos like? Were people evacuating in shock, or were they rushing out, screaming, as smoke and fire threatened to render a mini-city into ruins?
What was it like on the ground?
What was it like being overtaken by the dust rolling from the collapsing skyscraper?
What tales of heroism happened both inside and outside, all around the story, both engraved into history, or forever forgotten?
What happened during that snapshot?
The crawling hour?
The hour where thousands died in one place?
The hour that caused a shockwave that numbed a nation?
The hour that knocked politics onto another road?
That could be repeated?
And we wouldn't expect it?
It's a shame that my children might know 9/11 like I know about Princess Diana.
And what I know about Princess Diana? That she died in a car crash. That people loved her.
And now she's history.
Will 9/11 just be history in the next twenty years?
Do you have anything to share today concerning 9/11? Have you written a blog post on 9/11 you want to share in the comments? Are you in my shoes, and not remember 9/11, or do you remember 9/11 very clearly?
By the way, here's a random song.