That day stands out clearly in my memory, even though I was only nine years old at the time. I remember emerging from my bedroom in the morning to find my dad watching television, which was unusual. (I definitely remember it being a Tuesday, but because of the time difference, it was actually Wednesday the 12th... hey, don't you sometimes remember things that never actually happened?) There were people on the TV running around, covered in dust. I remember thinking there had been an earthquake in some third-world country, and being surprised when they spoke with American accents. (I don't know why I made this assumption - you'll have to ask my nine-year-old self.)
I think I eventually had to ask my dad what was going on. He told me that people had flown planes into buildings in New York.
"But why? Wouldn't they have died?" I asked.
I'd never been exposed to something as horrific as suicide bombings before that. I couldn't believe that people would kill themselves to kill thousands of others; it didn't compute in my young brain. Now I come to think of it, it still doesn't.
I went to school as usual, and everyone was buzzing with the news. Kids in my class were discussing Al Qaeda and Osama bin Ladin. I didn't know what they were talking about.
When you think about it, it's surprising that September 11 affected me so much. After all, it didn't even happen in my own country. It shows how much of a global community we really live in.
Did September 11 change me? I guess it must have; it changed everyone. It was one of the first times I was exposed to the true tragedy of humankind. It must have removed some of my innocence, and my naivety. However, I think the real way that September 11 affected me was the way it changed the world around me. Though I can't really remember it, the world was a different place before that day - nowadays, things like airport security and anti-terrorism laws affect our everyday lives. Tensions between Muslims and others have increased a hundredfold. Sometimes these tensions spark violence, like that seen at Cronulla a few years ago; everyone of middle-eastern heritage is considered suspicious by somebody. Now, people are terrified.
For my major English essay this year, I studied a book called Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. The novel chronicles the struggles of a young boy to find truth in the trauma of 9/11, in which is father is killed. In a way, this book showed me how lucky I have been; like everyone, I was affected by this catastrophe, but I was detached from the violence. I wasn't there when the buildings fell down. I didn't know anyone who died. My life wasn't shattered by the tragedy. This book scared me a little bit, because Oskar is only nine years old - the same age I was at the time of September 11. I can't imagine how I would have coped if it had been my father who was killed.
Another thing this book has taught me, though, is that we can't spend our lives being afraid. Oskar, whose family has been torn apart, lives in constant fear of death. He refuses to travel on public transport, because it is an "obvious target". One of the most poignant lines in the novel for me is when Oskar explains why he wants coffee: "Coffee stunts my growth, and I'm afraid of death." He never really gets over his father's death, and instead chooses to wallow in his grief. It's incredibly sad that, after everything Oskar has been through, he never gets to live again.
If 9/11 had taught me anything, it's that we need to learn how to overcome a tragedy like that. Pain and suffering isn't just going to go away one day. In times of sorrow, we need to remember how to live.
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I couldn't publish this without mentioning the other milestone that has passed today - my last exam is now exactly two months away. Sweet freedom is approaching!
Also, I have to point out how much that post started to sound like my English essay. It even had quotations in it. God save me.
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