Two weekends ago I was supposed to have gone home. I had bought my plane tickets far in advance for the flight from St. Louis to New York on September 14th. I was excited because I was to attend a wedding and meet up with my boyfriend. Friends of ours, Kim and Damon, were getting married after having dated for seven years. But at 7:50 am on Tuesday September 11th, I got a call from my boyfriend. Groggy and stupefied, I tried to make sense of what he was saying. What do you mean a plane crashed into the World Trade Center? I didn’t understand until I turned on the television and horror engulfed my eyes. I asked myself, how could this be real? In a single moment, thousands of lives were altered and all I could do was stare in utter disbelief.
My boyfriend had to call Kim and cancel. Needless to say, she was disappointed that many of her out-of-town friends wouldn’t be able to come to her wedding. Even so, she decided to go forward with her plans. I felt sorry for Kim. I felt sorry that a terror-inspired gloom would hang over her special day. But I felt even worse for those whose lives had been snatched in an instant, without warning, without mercy. No one likes the thought of death, but to die in fire, to die crushed under steel, to die as the very floor beneath you crumbled, is uniquely inhumane and cruel.
Why does it take tragedy to make us appreciate life? Only three weeks ago I had complained about how traveling so often makes me tired. How petty and myopic we are! The thought that my boyfriend, had he not chosen to work in San Francisco, would be working in the World Trade Center made me shudder. We were not alone; individuals who regularly worked in the World Trade Center but were on vacation, had slept in, or got caught in traffic on the way to work joined us in the fortune of not being at the wrong place. Those of us who have escaped by a twist of fate now must live with the guilt of knowing how lucky we are.
The national tragedy is a harsh wake-up call to students who would rather live in secure bubbles. The events of September 11th beg us not only to be more aware of our surroundings, but also more mindful of each other. For, if we are given the privilege of life, why should we squander it on hate, destruction, and violence?
One of the greatest iniquities, in my mind, is to have no choice. In a country as great as America, we are given the freedom to choose for ourselves our paths and our actions. Sadly, individuals in the World Trade Center, in the Pentagon, and on the hijacked airplanes had no choice, no opportunity to escape, and were cheated of their lives. But there is still hope for those of us that remain. The hope is that we all learn something, and treat each other with added care. It will take some of us longer than others to heal from this tragedy. For some, the healing may never be complete, just as a father cannot be replaced or a colleague’s smiling face duplicated.
Kim married Damon on Sunday, September 16th. I hope that their wedding, however sobered by recent events, was enjoyable. An image of the wedding, occurring amid numerous funerals which took place during the same day, is in my mind an apt metaphor for that one beacon of hope that we human beings, when struck with heartbreaking tragedy, must look for in order to go on.