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Try To Remember
Try to remember that kind of September when no one wept except the willow. Try to remember that kind of September when life was simply sunshine, freedom, and a flower. Try to remember that kind of September when life was a beautiful melody, but the lyrics were up to us to compose. Try to remember that kind of September when there was an option to either enter the earth or just fall off it.
It is nice to remember, deep in December, that a heart without a hurt is simply hollow. Deep in December, it is nice to remember when the sky was once colored blue and the sun was once colored yellow.
Try not to remember that kind of September when we saw liberty, but they saw death. Try not to remember that kind of September when the lamenting and bitter weeping of mother-earth could be heard because her children were no more. Try not to remember that kind of September when all we had left were the memories engraved in our hearts.
It is nice to remember that kind of September when my luck had once seemed like a boulder resting in the run of a stream. Every September, I seem to remember when life was simply a comedy show, but the actors did not know how to play funny. Every September, I seem to remember that life is not fair; you can get a splinter by simply sliding down a rainbow.
Not one day passes by when there is no man or woman of no note who perform great deeds, speak great words, and suffer sorrows. I had been the lucky one, although I did suffer great sorrows, on the morning of September 11, as many believe.
No amount of coffee can drown the millions of nerves I have bottled inside my stomach. Today was the last day of my four-month interview to hold the job as a bond trader in the World Trade Center- in simpler words, an end to being perfect for four-months. I took the last sip of my coffee, pushed in my chair, and said goodbye to my family- little did they know, this could have been my final goodbye.
The sound of the heels of women’s shoes hitting the ground, the constant sound of numbers to the millions lingering on business people’s lips, and the sound of shuffling paper into folders enveloped me. I went to room 911, as I had the past three times, to meet my boss, Mr. Clarke.
“Hello. Take a seat.” He had said. I took a seat and rolled up the sleeves of my suit jacket, making it look like I had not lost a second of sleep over this interview.
“What do you picture yourself doing in five years from now?” He had asked.
“Uh, possibly celebrating my five year anniversary of your asking me this question.” I had said with a smile on my face.
Suddenly, almost in the blink of an eye, I heard the sound of explosion- ten times worse than the explosion of the fireworks on the fourth of July. Then, the floor beneath my feet began vibrating, which is when I began to realize that something had gone completely wrong.
“Run! Let’s get out of here!” Mr. Clarke cried.
The walls then began cracking and everything began to shake. Seconds after the first massive explosion, I heard another explosion from way above. My heartbeat seemed to be the drum of a heavy-metal song and all the employees were rushing to get out; the elevators were out of order, and only screaming and nail- biting hysteria could be heard up and down the stairwell. All of us were unaware at the time that this was the airplane hitting the tower. Fire then began to swallow the walls and all you could see is gray smoke. Mr. Clarke had fallen and his face was scorched. I had used all my might to throw his heavy weight on my shoulders, save his life, and sprint down the steps. Sirens were now the only thing heard, but not our pleas for help. I had then felt myself sinking into the floor. I ran and ran, but I was not going anywhere. The steps of the stairwell were burnt away, along with the lives of many. The only option I had left was to jump. With Mr. Clarke still lying vulnerable in my arms, I scaled across the side of the burning building, closed my eyes, and jumped. A group of firemen held a huge trampoline beneath us, only my boss safely reached the edge of the trampoline. I landed on cement. I suffered a broken back and neck, which was considered lucky. My boss, however, died the next day of a heart attack. His death did not come from the airplane above, but from the explosion below.
I had always tried to tell my story, but no one ever cared to listen. I do not care what the government says, I do not care what scientists say, what happened on September 11 is something that does not come with a rewind and delete button. What happened on September 11 will always stay in our minds, have its own place in our hearts, and no matter how hard we try to cover it up, will be that distinctive stamp that marks our country until the end of time. Try to remember, and if you remember, that will make the difference.