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The Promise We Made on 9/11
It was just after 10:00 a.m. when I emerged from my Music Theory placement exam at the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music. Feeling drained and overwhelmed by the demands of being a music student, I shuffled over to the main office to sort out some scheduling issues. As I entered, I noticed a group of staff huddled around a TV, engrossed in what sounded like a news broadcast. I thought to myself, “Wow, they’re slacking off instead of working.”
I asked a bit impatiently if anyone could assist me. A young woman turned, her expression blank, and said, “The World Trade Center has collapsed.”
“Wait, what do you mean? Did the stock market crash?” I asked, unable to comprehend that a building could just fall down. “That doesn’t happen.”
“No, it’s really gone. The building is… gone.”
I tried to picture a massive structure crumbling, but I held onto the hope that everyone had evacuated in time. Surely there would have been some kind of warning, right? Was there an earthquake?
Suddenly, chaos erupted in the room—screams, gasps, and someone was whimpering. It was only later that I’d realize that was the moment the other tower fell.
I still couldn’t see the screen, but my heart raced. An eerie silence fell over the room, replaced by a heavy dread. I heard the word “terrorist” on the TV, and my throat tightened with that all-too-familiar urge to cry while trying to hold it together. I stepped back from the scene, that word following me like a haunting echo.
I didn’t truly grasp the full extent of the tragedy until after lunch. I had no TV in my room, so I waited for my roommate to come back and unlock his room—the only one in our eight-bedroom house with a television. Out of all of us, I was the sole American citizen.
Sitting there with my seven international roommates, I felt like a stranger as we watched the harrowing footage of people jumping from the windows and planes crashing into the towers, the buildings collapsing again and again on the screen. One roommate remarked, “I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened in America.” I snapped back at her to be quiet. I sat too close to the TV, trembling and crying. My roommates left me to my grief.
I’ve never considered myself a staunch patriot, but in that moment, I truly understood the meaning of allegiance. I realized that my roommates were just as shocked as I was, struggling to process such an incomprehensible disaster. But on that fateful day, I felt undeniably… American. I connected with the victims, the ones on the planes, those trapped inside the buildings, the brave rescuers, and the terrified souls fleeing through the streets. I felt the weight of shared suffering in a way I never had before.
Today, on the fourteenth anniversary of 9/11, let’s take a moment to remember where we were, what we witnessed, and how we felt in those gut-wrenching moments of disbelief. Share your story today, whatever it may be, because it matters. Let’s pass our experiences on to the next generation so they can grasp the depth of this loss alongside us. After all, we made a promise—never forget.