Date Submitted: 7/10/2017
I was teaching Spanish on Sept. 9, 2011. My Spanish I class had just walked in at 8CST. A student told me that a plane had just crashed into Tower !. Of course, I thought it was some pilot in distress and hoped for the best. As we turned on the TV, another plane hit the South Tower. We were in shock. I knew right then and there that this was no accident. Even though we went through our day's agenda, afterwards, we turned the TV on and just watched. In the teacher workroom not half an hour later, we were all stone-faced and doing our work quietly. I don't know why we didn't talked or even dared to look at each other. It was too vast to comprehend. Eventually, I made contact with my eldest, a sophomore at UT Austin. He was on his way home on the to his apartment on the shuttle after classes were canceled. Then I talked. I talked and talked and talked and am still doing it today and always. It was hard -- especially Flight 93.
Whenever I think of 9/11 I cry my guts out. The beautiful sky tricked me. I swear there wasn't a cloud in the entire universe that day.
Meghan (story excerpt)