J.I.A.: 8=9/11

I know that I wrote about this before but still, the thought that it's been 8 year made me want to make an update on what I wrote more than two years ago about my time in the US when the terrorist attacks occurred on September 11, 2001. Hopefully, this ones more grammtically correct than the first. :P

I remember my mom waking me up around 7 in the morning. The TV was turned on to Fox 5 Morning News (WTTG-TV) and as usual, I'm the first to take a bath while my little brother is given the privilege of getting a few minutes more to sleep. Ate and Kuya already left for school earlier (attending high school and middle school respectively).

After getting dressed, we ate breakfast and watched some good TV (ABC Family) until the clock strikes 8:20am. That's the time when my mom would accompany  me and Jorge to the nearest bus stop. There we would meet up with our schoolmates, including two classmates of mine, Andy and Jonathan.

Just turned 11 two weeks before and experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime chance to attend school in a foreign country, I was at the time already overwhelmed with the things going on around me back then. The one thing I only hated during my stay there is the feeling that things become much of a routine.

But on that very day, the 11th of September, things changed not for the better but on the other way around.

Every 9am, we start the day by listening to the daily morning announcements followed by the pledge of allegiance then is concluded by a moment of silence before we could proceed to life in the 5th grade. Everything seems a-okay for a lot of us.

Nothing significant or anything occured except one parent who called in to pick up one of my classmates early. I  thought his/her family must have some personal problems thus the reason he was sent home early. After that, class went on as we normally would.

As the day progressed I started to notice that one by one, my classmates are being pick up from school early. Me and a friend both agreed that something's really odd but I just can't put my finger on whatever is going on, completely unaware of what would be known to history as the event that changed the world forever.

By the end of the day there were only 12 or less of us left in class out of about 25 students. And looks like we weren't the only one: even those from the other classroom, a lot of kids were sent home early that day.

I later learned the shocking truth when Jorge and I came home that day. Kuya and Ate were watching TV, with their eyes glued to horrific images of two tall buildings burning before an airplane crashed onto one of them, leading to their collapse. I thought it was a movie but when the TV started to show images of the Pentagon with one of its wings destroyed on a large scale I was completely speechless.

Thank goodness my mom was okay, having been sent home earluyby the World Bank with the rest of her colleagues after the attacks were committed. Later, the news reported another plane crash in Pennsylvania and reported that no one survived.

Devastating news indeed but I didn't know how I would react with these shocking events. My mind kept thinking about this field trip we were supposed to go to the next day (which is at the same time, Jorge's 9th birthday). Kinda cold-hearted but then again, I'm  only 11, how I react?

The next day, the school formally announced the suspension of classes (not through TV but through Mr. McClain's voice message on the school's hotline) and while news about the attacks continue to fill our TV screens nonstop (especially WTTG).

I've no idea if Bush declared a state of emergency in the DC area or even in the nieghbouring suburbs but I remember that I went with my mom and Jorge to celebrate his birthday anyway by going to Tyson's Corner, a popular mall a bus ride away from our apartment. That day became like any other day for most people as I noticed there were noticeably many people when we went to the mall.

Eventually, the feeling of fear and loss starts to sink in and I thought there's going to be a world war (Which it did become months later).

I started to read newspaper articles related to 9/11: about near-death experiences, loved ones making tearful farewells through phone class and text. There was one article about a group of DC-based students and their teachesr who were among those who perished in the Pentagon crash. I also learned of inspiring stories about sacrifice and hope, about teamwork and love for country. It's these small wonders that made the pain left by the attacks more bearable.

Eight years after the attacks happened, the world became completely different. We don't know for sure of who's reallywinning on this endless "war on terror". But let us see this in another light: why must there be blood, violence and wasted lives for this "war" to win over. Why can't pople just get alonga nd respect on whatever people are free to believe in. Why must we judge people based on who or what they are? Why can't there be peace and diplomacy instead of mere tactics and badmouthing?

There are questions that needed to be answered while there are answered gthat needed to be questioned.

In order for us to attain true peace is to remember that to achieve it is to avoid an event like 9/11 to ever happen again.