Eleven years ago, I was twenty years old, and due to wake up an hour later to go to work, but my uncle threw open my door and yelled "the World Trade Centre's been hit!"
I'm ashamed to say that I thought he was pulling my leg.
When I woke up an hour later, I went out to the living room where my uncle was glued to the TV. I asked him what he was watching, then saw it...the footage from a plane crashing into the towers. At work, the mood was subdued, full of anger and heartbreak for our American neighbours. As time went on, more and more about this horrific tragedy was discovered.
Now, it's eleven years later. Children who lost their parents that day have grown, young men and women who's lives were charged forever. Parents who buried their children that day have survived, the best they can, and mourned their children as time has passed. The man behind these attacks is dead.
I hope, and pray, that we have learned something, taken some great lesson from this horrible day, and that history will not repeat itself. The lives on the many lost can be honored by our actions. We have grown, survived, and someday we will create a better world from the lessons of the past.
9/11. We will never forget.
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