A Day in September

Twenty years ago seems like a lifetime, in my case, half a lifetime ago. I was nineteen, fresh out of high school and starting the next chapter of my life in the big apple, New York City. The hustle and bustle of the city is what kept me going, what gave me energy and allowed my creativity to flow. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life at that time. I was doing some modeling and acting gigs here and there, but I knew I had to develop a better plan for myself.?

Two weeks before that day in September, I started my studies in marketing and graphic design. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I was still somewhat new to the city, but I had a very tight group of friends. We did everything together, supported each other, and most importantly, we had each other's backs. We were spread out all over the city but would meet at the World Trade Center Train Station every morning on our way to class. The morning of the 11th has been described as unseasonably warm, a beautiful day. It was, and it was also election day for the city, so the streets and trains in the morning were filled more than they usually were.?

I grabbed my bag, headed out the door, and jumped on the train to WTC. As I was exiting, I could see my friends already there, in the same spot we always met, waiting for me. They were laughing about something, and I was hurrying over there so I could join the fun. That was when the first plane hit. Of course, we didn't know at the time it was a plane. The sound was deafening; the ground shock, dust, and debris fell from beams above like in the movies. I made it over to my friends; we stood in silence for a second and waited to see what others were doing so we could follow. Time moved differently during all of this.?

We headed for the stairs, which came up next to WTC. After a second of our eyes adjusting to the sunlight, we immediately saw the debris raining down onto the pavement. The sounds of screams will stay with me for the rest of my life. That's all I remember hearing, just screams and gasps and "oh my god".?

We made it across the street out of the way from the falling debris and looked up. There we saw it, a massive hole in the side of the building with flames and smoke coming out of the windows. At this time, the police had arrived and started pushing us back a bit. Everyone on the street was just frozen; we didn't talk, we didn't move, we just watched in horror. That was until we heard this loud roaring noise getting closer and closer. We saw the second plane; it was much lower than any plane should be flying around the city. Before anyone could do anything, it impacted the second building. That is when everything changed; the screams became louder and started turning into sobbing. We all knew something was wrong, and we were in the middle of it.?

By this time, people in the buildings above the impact zone had broken the windows and were hanging out. Trying to wave for help, no help was able to get to them. People have asked me if I saw people jump from the buildings. I always answer yes, but the sound is what was frightening. You become numb to it after a while; as the year's pass, your mind plays games on you. You can remember everything, but your mind doesn't let you relive it or become emotional to it, at least for me. I still get chills, and my body tenses up when I talk about it, but the tears have gone.?

Everyone knows what happened next; one by one, the buildings fell. Throwing debris across city blocks and the cloud of doom racing down streets. That is when I lost track of my friends. We just started running, our survival skills kicked. I didn't make it far after the first building fell. I was knocked to the ground by something; I rolled underneath a car and waited for it to clear up. It never cleared up, but I slowly made my way out from underneath the car and started looking for my friends. It was dead silence, no one screaming, no one talking, just looks of despair and confusion. Everyone was covered in ash, some also in blood. I located two of my friends, but we were missing one.?

We had no idea where we were walking; all sense of direction was gone. The cloud of smoke and debris filled the air, and it was thick. It was hard to breathe and even harder to see where you were going. It was then that we heard that same rumbling, and we knew the second building was also falling. We took cover in an entryway to a building. The windows shattered, the cloud of smoke and debris got thicker, and it became impossible to breathe. We made our way inside the building so we could catch our breath. Again, the dust started to settle, and our eyes adjusted to the darkness.?

We hugged each other, cried, and cleaned our wounds. That is when an orthodox Jewish man with an EMT vest on led us to a small park. We were given these tags to wear around our neck, which stated our injuries. I thought I was fine, I didn't need this, but it was at that point I saw my shoes had melted from the heat, and my feet were in pain. My pants and shirt had rips and singe marks, and there were parts of my skin that resembled only what I can describe as lava. Black crusty bits with red blood. Everyone was coughing, of course; we inhaled so much debris and smoked it was no wonder. However, I was taken to a hospital in the West Village, where I stayed for a couple of days. I laid there the entire time, not knowing the full picture of what happened. I was in isolation, no tv, no radio, no idea what was going on. I, of course, called my mom as soon as I could and told her I was fine; I didn't want her to worry.?

When I left the hospital, I learned all of my friends had made it and all were ok. We didn't see each other for several weeks, letting what happened sink in and dealing with the emotions we were experiencing. My boyfriend at the time was not there but lost his dad in the attack. Though he was not that close with him because of his "lifestyle," I knew it affected him hard. I noticed a change in his personality immediately; he stopped caring, he started taking drugs to get rid of the pain he was experiencing. His pain didn't last long though, just three months after that day in September; I got a call from his mom. Matty was in the hospital in a coma. I stood by his side every day. His family decided to take him off life-support a couple of weeks later. He went quick and peacefully.?

People lost a lot on that day in September. For me, my loss happened in the weeks and months afterward. I left NYC for about a year; I couldn't stay there, soldiers on every street corner, tanks in the streets, it was too much to go through. I bottled my emotions up and fled. I only returned once I knew they were securely packed away, never to see the light again. The scars have faded a bit, but the memory of that day is still fresh. Each year I think it will get better, and each year I can speak a bit more about it. Twenty years ago seems like a lifetime, in my case, half a lifetime ago. That day in September has made me the person I am today, good and bad. Since that day, the one motto I have kept with me is, "live each day as if it was your last." So another year has passed, another day in the books, here's to tomorrow!?