I am a History major. So, obviously some time and some where in my life I became interested in history. Actually, I became interested in history nine years ago today.
Although I was only 11 years old I remember the day like yesterday. I remember hearing my mother frantically call my dad who was at work and ask him he had heard the news. I remember how confused I was when my mom told me a plane had crash into the Twin Towers. Honestly, I had never even heard of the Twin Towers, but I figured they must have been pretty important buildings. I remember going to school that day, nine years ago. I tried so very hard to intelligently discuss with my friends what I thought was going on...
I remember going home that day, nine years ago, I remember sitting down and watching my country get attacked. I watched in horror as I saw people jumping to their death. I didn't understand, why would someone want to hurt America? I fell asleep that night to the sound of radio. That night, nine years ago, I fell in love with my country.
The very next summer I was able to take a trip out East. One of the places I was able to visit was New York City. Everywhere I looked I saw the American flag, my flag, flying high in the sky. As I walked down the streets of New York, I saw the many vendors selling pictures, books, shirts, etc..all in remembrance of that fateful day. I then approached Ground Zero. I remember the distinct smell that I breathed in. I stood there thinking of all the Americans that lost their life that day. I remember reading the papers posted all over vehicles and store fronts asking if I had seen their son, daughter, husband, or wife. I then approached a wall- the most beautiful wall I had ever seen. A dirty white wall, covered with the thoughts of my people- Americans. It was that day that I fell in love with the people of America. I picked up a pen and I signed the wall. "I love you America, I will never forget." I put my pen back in my pocket. As I walked along I continued to read the wall, although I was only 11 my heart broke as I read of the many who had lost loved ones that day. I then walked into a small store and for the first time in my life I bought a book- not just any book, a history book. A book that gave a detailed outline of what happened that day. A book filled with pictures of my country, the land I had grown to love, and my people being attacked. And for the first time in my life I loved history. That day, as we drove out of New York City I quietly flipped through the pages of my new book and for the first time in my life I vowed I would never forget. And America- I don't plan on ever breaking that promise.