Saturday, September 10, 2011
I'm sure everyone has their stories.
Some were horrified, some were baffled, some like me, were heartbroken.
About a week ago I started seeing the pictures of the event, stories re-surfaced and stories were shared.
It's not about being sadistic or just trying to open closed wounds. It's about understanding how far we as a society, as a country have come.
I am Peruvian by birth, but everyone knows that the US is my second motherland. Sort of like my mom and my stepmom. I love them both, but they both have their own place in my heart.
In 2001 I was in Peru with my mother. I had been there for two years already.
My mother frantically woke me up very early in the morning demanding that I check the news.
Slightly annoyed I got up and watched.
My heart sank.
At first I thought I was watching a movie, you know one of those war movies where the director has visions of destroying NYC?
I changed the channel, same picture, I changed it again, but the picture on the screen didn't change.
One of the towers was on fire...
I demanded an explanation, what was going on?
My family informed me that a plane had accidentally crashed.
Then it happened, another plane hit.
I couldn't bare it, I felt the room spinning, the hair on my arms stood up like thorns. My body ached.
Still groggy I was trying to make sense of it all, why were planes crashing?
You must understand, the news we get in Peru aren't the same as we get here in the US. We didn't have the full story.
After a while of watching the horrific sight I came to an alarming realization.
My family.
My stepmom, brothers, sister...
I wanted to call them but I had no money. I cried so much not knowing.
Were they safe?
I knew that they didn't live close by, but NYC is a place to visit, what if they had decided to visit the city that same day.
All of these thoughts crossed my mind and I was going insane.
I finally found a way to call, but the calls were not going through. There was an emergency number to call but all I got was answering machines.
On top of that worry, I was also experiencing physical pain. My country was hurting and there was nothing I could do about it.
This is one of those situations where you think "Gosh I was I was there!"
I wanted to take a plane, I wanted to go there and help.
At sixteen years old I was ready to come and defend my country.
I know it sounds silly, but there was so much frustration. All I could was cry.
Then next few months were bad.
I did finally managed to get a hold of family, they were all fine.
The thing is, nothing was the same.
I felt hollow, I felt hurt.
Every time the news showed the plane crashing on the towers I had to leave the room.
People were obsessed!
Now, ten years later, it still hurts.
Images bring back memories.
Seeing pictures of the burning towers, people jumping, people running, dead.
It's heartbreaking, our country was broken.
I think now we've healed, but the scars still show.
It is today, ten years later that I realize that even though all of the changes to security do not suit us as well as we'd like to, they are precautions.
Better safe than sorry right?
I wish that we never have to go through something like that again.
I hope that the war end, it's not over yet right?
I hope with all of my heart that the human race learns to have a little more compassion, a little more heart, a little more respect for other human beings.
I'm not sure where I wanted to get with this post, I just felt the need to express how I felt then and how I feel now.
Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
Stay safe everyone, always.
Some were horrified, some were baffled, some like me, were heartbroken.
About a week ago I started seeing the pictures of the event, stories re-surfaced and stories were shared.
It's not about being sadistic or just trying to open closed wounds. It's about understanding how far we as a society, as a country have come.
I am Peruvian by birth, but everyone knows that the US is my second motherland. Sort of like my mom and my stepmom. I love them both, but they both have their own place in my heart.
In 2001 I was in Peru with my mother. I had been there for two years already.
My mother frantically woke me up very early in the morning demanding that I check the news.
Slightly annoyed I got up and watched.
My heart sank.
At first I thought I was watching a movie, you know one of those war movies where the director has visions of destroying NYC?
I changed the channel, same picture, I changed it again, but the picture on the screen didn't change.
One of the towers was on fire...
I demanded an explanation, what was going on?
My family informed me that a plane had accidentally crashed.
Then it happened, another plane hit.
I couldn't bare it, I felt the room spinning, the hair on my arms stood up like thorns. My body ached.
Still groggy I was trying to make sense of it all, why were planes crashing?
You must understand, the news we get in Peru aren't the same as we get here in the US. We didn't have the full story.
After a while of watching the horrific sight I came to an alarming realization.
My family.
My stepmom, brothers, sister...
I wanted to call them but I had no money. I cried so much not knowing.
Were they safe?
I knew that they didn't live close by, but NYC is a place to visit, what if they had decided to visit the city that same day.
All of these thoughts crossed my mind and I was going insane.
I finally found a way to call, but the calls were not going through. There was an emergency number to call but all I got was answering machines.
On top of that worry, I was also experiencing physical pain. My country was hurting and there was nothing I could do about it.
This is one of those situations where you think "Gosh I was I was there!"
I wanted to take a plane, I wanted to go there and help.
At sixteen years old I was ready to come and defend my country.
I know it sounds silly, but there was so much frustration. All I could was cry.
Then next few months were bad.
I did finally managed to get a hold of family, they were all fine.
The thing is, nothing was the same.
I felt hollow, I felt hurt.
Every time the news showed the plane crashing on the towers I had to leave the room.
People were obsessed!
Now, ten years later, it still hurts.
Images bring back memories.
Seeing pictures of the burning towers, people jumping, people running, dead.
It's heartbreaking, our country was broken.
I think now we've healed, but the scars still show.
It is today, ten years later that I realize that even though all of the changes to security do not suit us as well as we'd like to, they are precautions.
Better safe than sorry right?
I wish that we never have to go through something like that again.
I hope that the war end, it's not over yet right?
I hope with all of my heart that the human race learns to have a little more compassion, a little more heart, a little more respect for other human beings.
I'm not sure where I wanted to get with this post, I just felt the need to express how I felt then and how I feel now.
Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
Stay safe everyone, always.
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