Sunday, September 11, 2011


I was in college at Rutgers University, about 30 miles outside of New York City. I was sitting in my 2nd period World Mythology lecture. A girl came in and walked across the front of the classroom to the Professor and whispered to him. Then, she walked out.

"Due to the events in New York City, classes are canceled." This is the only thing I was told. Everyone started asking tons of questions. I heard terrorists, attacks, World Trade Center, and I grabbed my stuff. I ran, literally ran, from Voorhees Mall straight down Hamilton Street to my off campus apartment. When I got there, the first tower had already fallen. My roommates and I huddled up on the couch, and we could not peel ourselves away from the horrific events. We tried to get in touch with everyone we knew. One of my roommates and closest friends was from Summit, NJ, and many people she knew worked in the towers or very close to them. It was a sad, sad day.

Our coach decided to still have lacrosse practice that afternoon. When we got to our fields behind the RAC on Livingston, we could see the black smoke filling the sky. It was devastating. No one could concentrate, no one could function. Being so close to what was left of the towers, it was eerie.

I will never forget that day and the days and months that followed. I experienced this horrific event as a young student. It was an overwhelming sense of devastation and fear. I couldn't believe the lives that were lost. Now as a mother and a wife, I am feeling a new sense of devastation for the families of the lives lost. As I watch the TV this weekend, I am listening to the stories of those families. It is heart wrenching to hear of all of the heroic acts, the final calls, and last "I love you's."

God Bless all of the lives that were taken, the families left behind, the heroes that responded, and the heroes that are still responding every day.

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