By Pamphlet Anon
Looking back now, I think 9/11 was very much a formative experience for me growing up.
I was in 10th grade, in Mandarin Chinese language class. We’d just walked in, and our teacher Mr. Mitchell had live news coverage of the events playing on the classroom TV.
We sat down in near-silence, all watching this unfold … living where we did, many of our young minds were quietly wondering “who do I know that just lost a family member?”
My friend Lindsay’s mother worked at the State Department. There were rumors going around of a car-bomb parked in front of State that day. I remember her fear.
School was let out early.
In one of my clearest memories of the day, when we arrived at home, I vividly remember exiting the van, walking out into the middle of our front yard (the same house we still live in today) and hearing fighter jets roaring through the skies of northern Virginia (a sound and sight we had never before experienced). I stared up into the BEAUTIFUL clear blue skies of that day, wondering whether we were entering into another world war; whether anything would ever be the same again.
Surreal … and terrifying.
I will never forget.